Halkegenia Online v20
by zero0hero
Summary: HalO part two. Asuna and Kirito have been Reunited and Prince Wales still draws breath as war with Albion Looms on the horizon. Meanwhile Louise Valliere continues her search for the lost Pixies of Tarbes Garden only to be met with set backs and complications. They will all soon discover that they have more to fear than just Albion, and that there are worse monsters than Zombies.
1. Arrun Noir

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Part One

Going to try a new naming convention and smaller installments for this arc.

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 1 - Part 1

_"Sakura, hurry up Sakura or you'll be late!"_

_Eight years old, Yamada Sakura pulled on her rain boots and ran out the front door, jumping past her fourth eldest brother to stomp down hard on the first puddle on the sidewalk._

_"Hey, don't do that Sakura!" Her brother shouted, a year older than her, he was always so annoying, telling her not to do things that were fun._

_"Hurry up or you'll be late!" Sakura parroted back as she ran down the sidewalk._

_"Ah, Sakura, you mustn't run on the wet sidewalk, Sakura!"_

_..._

_"Ah, Sakura-chan, Sakura-chan. You mustn't do that Sakura-chan!"_

_Ten year old Yamada Sakura huffed irritably as her third eldest brother retrieved the Kimono she'd allowed to fall to the ground. "Grandmother and Grandfather are expecting us to look our best."_

_"I'm not going to wear something like that!" She grumbled. She and her third eldest brother had never gotten along. He was always teasing her and nothing she said ever seemed to have any effect. It wasn't fair!_

_"But we're all going to the festival Sakura-chan."_

_"Not dressed like this!" She complained, sticking out her tongue._

_Sakura immediately regretted it, her brother had seen his opening. "But it's so pretty Sakura-chan. I'm sure Ojii-san would love to see you wearing it. You'll be the family's Chisai-hime!"_

_"Don't say that! I don't want to be all girly!"_

_"Ah, but you are a girl Chisai-hime, or would your prefer we call you our Sakuya-hime?!"_

_"Stop! That's even worse!"_

_..._

_"Sakura!"_

_"Y-yes!" Fourteen years old, Sakura tried not to stutter a she faced off against her second eldest brother. It was hard._

_Her second eldest brother had always been her favorite, warm and constantly encouraging her to pursue her interests. But as soon as he entered the dojo he became a completely different person, stern, and only interested in pushing her as hard as he could, only to change back into his kind self when practice was finished._

_"Remember Sakura-chan, you can't hesitate because you're afraid of being hit. Hesitation is less than useless, if you hesitate, then you will definitely be hit. Do you understand?"_

_"Y-yes!"_

_He had always been the athlete of the family, an accomplished Kendo Practitioner, it had only been natural that she had gone to him when she had first started practicing four years ago. Of course, from his perspective, she had started late and needed lots of extra work._

_Her father had been mortified. The only daughter among five children, to have her devote herself to Kendo had not seemed terribly feminine. But her brothers had come to her aid and father had eventually relented. It meant taking etiquette lessons, and not complaining about dressing up for festival when they went to see their grandparents, but she would be allowed to attend a high school that was renowned for its Kendo team. If she wanted to make the cut, she needed to give it her all now._

_"Very well then." Her second eldest brother said solemnly as he lowered his helmet. "Then begin by showing me what you learned last time . . ."_

_..._

_"Sakura! Hey Sakura! Hold on!"_

_'Nii-chan?' She wondered, she felt like she was floating, drifting. Her eldest brother was leaning over her, phone clutched tightly in his hand._

_She'd been running home to get her bag for practice, and then, there had been a car. The driver had tried to stop, but the road was slick._

_What had happened after that? She didn't know. Why was he yelling at her?_

_Then she'd felt herself being lifted, carried, placed down on an ambulance stretcher to be taken to the hospital. When she'd finally regained her senses, she almost wished she hadn't._

_Concussion, broken collar bone, broken hip, shattered ulna, three broken ribs on her right side. The doctors said she was lucky it hadn't been worse, with therapy, she'd be able to walk again, eventually._

_Her father had thanked her attending physician fervently as he sat at her bedside along with her four elder brothers._

_Lucky? She wasn't lucky! If she was lucky, she would have been killed! This couldn't be happening, not now, she'd made it this far, all the way to nationals!_

_Even if she managed to recover, her chance would have long since passed her by, and she'd probably never be able to get back to where she had been. She'd wept bitterly for days afterwords. She couldn't face her team mates who were relying on her, she couldn't face her brothers who had dedicated so much of their time to helping her . . . She just wanted to disappear._

_..._

_"Sakura-chan, are you sure you don't need my help?"_

_"I'm . . . fine." Nineteen years old, Yamada Sakura limped down the front steps of her family's home. Nine months and she could almost walk like she used to, although her hip was constantly stiff and she wasn't supposed to run while the bone was still healing._

_Her eldest brother offered her his hand as he held the door to the Taxi._

_She stopped before getting in._

_"Come on Sakura-chan! We're going to be late." Her youngest brother urged._

_"Just a minute." She said, turning to her eldest brother. In the last nine months, Sakura had learned more about her eldest brother then she had in the previous nineteen years."Thank you, for everything." She hugged him tightly._

_Quiet, serious, and even more stoic than their father, she'd thought he had hated her. Instead she'd learned how wrong she'd been In the end, it had been him who had convinced her that her life wasn't over._

_He'd gotten her to stand up, to work through her physical therapy, to walk again. She'd discovered that her brother possessed a wonderful, dry sense of humor and that they shared a great love of history and literature. They'd talk whenever they could while she was recovering, either late at night when he got off work, or video chatting over his lunch hour._

_She let go, smiling as he shifted awkwardly._

_"Everything's packed." Her second eldest brother said. "Uncle said he'll help you move everything in when when you get there."_

_"You haven't forgotten anything, have you." Her third eldest brother asked. "Phone, keys, wallet, all your clothes, books, map of the campus . . ." He kept listing things off until she slugged him in the shoulder when he started to mention being sure she'd packed clean underwear._

_"Why do you have to be such an insufferable jerk?" She asked._

_He grew serious. "I thought I was a perfectly sufferable jerk." He said as he rubbed at his arm._

_"Sakura-chan!" Her youngest brother said again impatiently._

_They would both be attending the same university, it was her brother's second year and her first. Their uncle had already agreed to room them, but that meant arriving early and getting settled._

_Sakura threaded past her youngest brother and slipped into the back seat. "Hurry up, or you'll be late." She teased, waiting as her brother ran around to the other side of the taxi and got in._

_"And now we're off, eh Sakura-chan?" He brother noted. "Well, first years tough, but you'll have fun, I think."_

_Twisting around in her seat, Sakura had watched her her brothers, her house, and her street vanish away behind her . . ._

* * *

The hammering came again and Sakuya wasn't sure at first whether it was in her room, or in her head. The third round of knocking finally convinced her that it was coming from the door and she groaned as she groped around in the dark.

The ledger she had been reading before bed fell to the floor with a heavy -thunk- and was followed by the another as her comb followed it the ground. She didn't find what she was looking for, but her hand brushed against the control for the bedside lamp. She was left briefly dazzled by the warm light before her eyes began to adjust.

Squinting, she blinked a few times, feeling at her face before finally realizing that she was looking for a pair of glasses that didn't exist in this world. Yamada Sakura the human might have had an acute case of myopia, but Lady Sakuya the Sylph had perfect twenty ten vision. Just another reminder of this insane world.

She looked around the room, the master bedroom of the mansion that she and her volunteer staff had commandeered as their headquarters. It was suitably impressive, she thought. This one room was bigger than her whole apartment in Japan, the antique furniture alone would have been worth more than everything she owned.

The knocking at the door came again. The hands of the tall grandfather clock in the corner were presently at fifteen minutes past three, presumably AM given the inky blackness beyond the open balcony doors. She briefly entertained the idea of ignoring the noise and going back to sleep, but if she was being disturbed this early, it had to be important. Reluctantly Sakuya pulled the heavy blankets back and swung her legs over the side of the bed, padding barefoot to the door. She stopped to check herself in the mirror.

Dressed in green and white pinstripe pajamas and with her long, dark green hair gathered up to keep it out of the way while she slept. It wasn't an appearance that anyone would associate with Sakuya, Lady of the Sylphs. It wasn't an appearance that anyone would have associated with Yamada Sakura either. Sakura was pretty, but Sakuya was gorgeous in the sort of casual way that very few real women could be.

Pale, impossibly perfect skin, high forehead, delicate Japanese features accentuated by Sylph racial traits. To be honest, since finding herself trapped in this skin, she'd grown to hate it. It felt like a lie to which she couldn't tell the truth. But it had turned out to be a convenient lie for dealing with the Nobility of Tristain. With the right clothes, the right posture, right voice, this form practically exuded Confident Young Noblewoman, an impression that she sought to cultivate now more than ever.

And there was no point in stopping now. Straightening her shirt and rubbing the sleep from her eyes quickly, she unlocked the door and cracked it open to look out into the hallway. "Yes . . ." She blinked. "Alicia?"

Flanked by a Sylph and Cait Syth guard, Alicia Rue, Leader of the Cait Syth, nodded quickly as she glanced up and down the hall. More than the unnatural hour, the tenseness in Alicia's posture alarmed Sakuya. The Cait Syth looked . . . well she looked skittish, like a cat with its hackles up.

"What's wrong?" She asked, feeling suddenly even more tired. As twisted as it was, Sakuya was starting to operate under the assumption that something bad was always about to happen, it seemed to be a safe bet these days.

Alicia finally stopped glancing around and focused on Sakuya. The normal smile was missing, and even while she forced herself to relax, her tail continued to lash from side to side, betraying her inner turmoil. "Sakuya-chan." Alicia greeted. "Uhm, I think you should get dressed quickly. We need you to come to the Arrun outskirts with us. There's been well . . . " She trailed off. "You need to see it for yourself."

Sakuya nodded slowly, not sure what had happened but knowing Alicia well enough. If something had given her pause, it had to be bad.

"Can you wait here for just a minute?" Sakuya asked, there wasn't any time to get properly prepared, but she could at least put on something more formal than her night clothes. Then again, Alicia wasn't wearing much more than a night shirt and shorts, a sure sign that she'd been pulled from bed similarly unprepared.

"I'd really rather not." Alicia said and then chuckled weakly. "Don't worry, the only people who are dressed are the guards who were on watch. I think even Rute just showed up in his boxers. Ugh, too much information huh?!" She tried to joke but that only made it seem all the more urgent.

Sakuya gestured for the guards to stand off before leaning in closely to one sensitive ear. "Alicia-chan . . . no Arisa . . . what's happened?"

Alicia paled a little, eyes widening. She looked like she was trapped. "Sakuya-chan . . . the night watch patrol found a body at the roadside around half a kilometer outside of Arrun. It's Novair."

* * *

Standing among a gathering crowd of investigators, guards, and onlookers, Argo was not a happy kitty, and it wasn't just because she'd been dragged out of bed before dawn to wade around in the mud outside of Arrun. Though that might have had a little bit to do with it.

She pulled her coat a little tighter around herself as she sipped a mug of hot tea in an effort to wake herself up. If that didn't work, all she needed to do was look in front of her. One hundred percent guaranteed to wake her up, with a fifty percent chance of causing her to lose what was left of her dinner.

Being an information broker was a dangerous job, especially in the death game of Sword Art Online. Even optimizing her build for scouting and survivability and keeping a careful ear to the ground, Argo had seen more than her fair share of close calls and people dying. But it hadn't been like this. People dissolving into polygons and light effects lacked the visceral impact of a dead body.

The corpse had been left where it had been found by the watch squadron that had discovered it. Most had watched or read enough murder mysteries to know that they shouldn't tamper with the crime scene.

Argo snorted as she stroked the head of her Nav Pixie Suisen, of course, it wasn't like they had a fully equipped forensics lab or a squad of well qualified crime scene investigators, that particular profession had come through the transition underrepresented. Not that they needed any sort of specialist to tell them the cause of death.

Body slowly going stiff, the Sylph stared sightlessly up into the sky, the collar of his shirt stained red where blood from his slit throat had spilled down. Argo used the term slit, but it was more accurate to say ripped open, or maybe sawed all the way back to the bone. Not a pleasant picture in any case. That was why she was trying hard not to look.

"Time of death estimated to be three hours ago judging by ambient temperature and commencement of rigor mortis." A black clad Spriggan girl reported.

They might not have had many forensics specialists, but the transition had brought through several morticians, morgue workers, and doctors who were more than able to identify the stages of decay in a cadaver. They could only hope that it would be enough when coupled with the expertise of their few police officers and detectives.

"Are you sure, Abigail-san?" The question came from a distraught looking Yulier.

The silver haired Undine had arrived just after Argo, no doubt taking flight as soon as she had been alerted, wearing little more than a white jacket over a pale blue nightgown. Her co-leader, Thinker was just as lightly garbed in gray slacks and a t-shirt.

The Spriggan girl grimaced. "I'm reasonably sure, assuming that our musculature is anything like a humans, he's only just starting to go stiff."

"I see." Yulier replied queasily.

"What the devil was he doing out here so late at night is what I want to know." Lord Rute grunted as he paced nearby. The Lord of the Leprechauns had arrived a little late, taking the time to put on his red buttoned coat, although not enough time to ensure a proper fit.

"Who said he was out here?" Argo asked rhetorically.

"That's right." Abigail said as she straightened out her black, gothic lolita skirt. "There's a good chance that the body was moved here after death. The . . . well, the killer probably thought it would be a good way to get rid of the corpse. Leave it out here and hope a mob would eat it."

Argo nodded thoughtfully. "Too bad the mob patrols have been so successful."

"Argo-chan!" Abigail said in surprise. "That wouldn't be good! If that happened, we wouldn't have found the body, and then we wouldn't know that someone had killed him, and that would be terrible! Unless . . . you're being sarcastic . . . " The Spriggan trailed off.

"Bingo." Argo sighed before a light to the north drew her attention. A quartet of green and yellow stars were descending from the direction of Arrun, wings taking shape into the familiar forms of Sylphs and Cait Syth. "Well then, that's everyone but Mortimer." Argo thought out loud.

The Gnomes still hadn't selected a permanent leader and their representative was currently busy up north negotiating with the Valliere family. Likewise, Zia had been officially elected as the official representative of the Puca and was busily organizing her home city. The same went for Zolf and Morgiana who had business in their respective faction capitals at the moment and thus wouldn't be back for a few days.

That left only five of the nine leaders in Arrun available to respond immediately. Argo stuffed her hands into the pockets of her cloak, feeling her ears fold down of their own volition. Five people to be informed as soon as possible that they had a murder on their hands.

The first to touch down was Lady Sakuya followed by Alicia Rue. The Lady of the Sylphs and the Leader of the Cait Syth had both arrived in their night clothes, followed closely by a pair of guards.

"Argo-san, I came as soon as I heard!" Sakuya said as she jogged down from the elevated shoulder of the roadway. As soon as she caught sight of the body, she raised her hands to her mouth and went pale. Argo gave her a few moments to let it sink in. "I . . . I'm sorry." Sakuya whispered softly. "I'd heard, but I didn't really believe it. I'm . . . I . . . Novair."

"Tis alright, you're not the only one." Argo breathed softly.

Sakuya came slowly to stand over the body, hand held close over her mouth. "H-how could this have happened?" It was like she didn't believe what she was seeing.

Argo couldn't blame her. When the first reports of deliberate PKs had started cropping up in SAO, nobody had quite grasped what it meant. The idea of ordinary people, players, turning on each other in such desperate circumstances had seemed unbelievable.

"Tis what we're going to find out." Argo assured her. "But we'll need your cooperation Sakuya-san."

The Sylph woman nodded her head weakly. "O-of course. Anything."

"Then . . ." Argo began, but before she could continue, she was brushed aside by an Undine and Salamander that had been standing off, examining the scene, and taking careful notes of Abigail's observations.

"We'll take it from here Miss." The Undine man, dark blue haired and goateed, said briskly. "Lady Sakuya, I'm Jensen and this is Vakarian-san." He gestured to serious looked Salamander at his side complete with Salamander battle markings on each cheek. "We're members of the city watch. We've already been given permission to head the murder investigation."

Argo rolled her eyes. She'd done a little digging into these two, and while there was not guarantee they were telling the truth, a few of their IRL friends had cropped up among the other factions. Apparently it wasn't entirely an act, they really were police officers, although it didn't sound like they were actually detectives, not that they had many of those anyways. That they'd been put in charge of the investigation was news to her.

"By who, might I ask?" Lord Rute grunted. "I don't remember agreeing to that."

"You did agree to and sign the City Watch charter however." The Salamander, Vakarian, said casually. "That's all we need in order to be empowered by the City Council or one of the Faerie Lords. "Now then, Lady Sakuya, can you confirm the identity of this man."

"Yes." Sakuya nodded slowly. "He's Novair, one of my assistants. My secretary." She frowned. "Which Lord authorized this, Alicia?"

The Cait Syth looked confused. "Don't look at me."

"We just learned about it as well." Thinker said on behalf of himself and Yulier.

"Is nobody going to ask me if I know anything about this?" Rute muttered.

"Actually, the thought never crossed my mind." Alicia admitted chidingly. "I guess that's because you project a strong impression of being useless."

The Leprechaun Lord Spluttered ineffectually as Jensen turned to the other Leaders. "If you want to know, you can just ask him yourself." He said, pointing again to the sky over Arrun where a trio of red lights were coming to set down.

Argo wouldn't have been a very good information broker if she didn't pick up on Sakuya's sudden look of discomfort. The slight tensing of her shoulders, and the narrowing of her eyes. It was very clear that the Sylph Lord wasn't happy to see the latest arrival.

"Good morning." Lord Mortimer said as he approached in the company of his guard commander, a Salamander Swordswoman named Lydia, and one of his heavily armored knights. The Salamander Lord, like Rute, was fully dressed in black and red robes over dark formal clothing. Mortimer had obviously decided his appearance was worth delaying his arrival. "Lady Sakuya, Lady Alicia." He nodded to the two senior Fae Lords.

"You've something to do with this?" Sakuya asked suspiciously.

"If you mean the death of this man? Of course not. If you mean the investigation." He nodded to the two watchmen. "I was the first person that was informed after the watch captain. It seemed prudent to begin immediately." The Salamander Lord came to stand over the body, observing clinically. "This is unfortunate, Novair-san was an exceptional asset."

"An asset?" Sakuya bristled.

"Yes." Mortimer offered coldly. "His organizational expertise was invaluable to the running of Arrun. Make no mistake, there is a murderer in our midst." Mortimer looked up, red eyes meeting Sakuya's own green gaze. "What I want to know is whether this was some tragic coincidence or foul play."

"Lady Sakuya." Vakarian asked quietly. "You were the last person to see Novair alive, correct?"

Sakuya shook her head distractedly, raising a hand to her forehead. "Yes, something like that. At the Governor's mansion. He keeps his own apartment off site so he departed around eleven-o-clock."

"That matches with my estimate!" Abigail noted with a hint of satisfaction that was entirely out of place given the circumstances.

"Can you tell us what you were discussing beforehand." Jensen added quickly. "It may be pertinent to the investigation."

"Just the usual paperwork, budget reports, ration tickets, the new TRIST charter, nothing out of the ordinary." Sakuya rubbed at her eyes. "What could that possible have to do with anything?"

"We can't say." Jensen replied as he jotted down some notes on his pad. "Can you tell us what your relationship with the deceased was? He was your secretary correct."

"Yes." Sakuya nodded. "What does . . ."

"And this was a purely professional relationship?" Vakarian added.

"Of course! We . . ."

"Then, one last question." Jensen cut in. "Are there any witnesses that can corroborate your location after the deceased departed."

'Oh boy.' Argo thought. She guessed it was inevitable, after all, they had to start narrowing down witness somewhere. The response was equally as inevitable.

Sakuya's mouth went agape and then shut tightly. One thing could be said for pale skin, even in the moonlight, the red stood out dangerously. "Are you implying . . ."

"Ah, Sakuya-chan!" Alicia tried to cut in, but was silenced by a sharp wave of the Sylph Lord's hand.

"Are you implying," Sakuya hissed, "that I had something to do with this?!"

"Nothing of the sort, Lady Sakuya." Vakarian said quickly. "We just don't have a lot to go on right now. All we know is that there's a murderer loose somewhere in Arrun. It's our job to check every lead, and you're one of the easiest to check off our list."

"We want to find who did this as badly as you do." Jensen agreed. "Help us, help you, so that we can catch the perp before someone else ends up like your man."

Sakuya stopped in her tracks, regarding both men coldly. Her expression softened as she turned back to the lifeless body of her subordinate. Novair's eyes had been left open, nobody but Abigail had touched the body, and even she had done so as little as possible.

"Yes, I understand." Sakuya breathed softly. "I apologize for my conduct. I stayed up for about an hour after Novair left. I had some reports to finish and have forwarded to the Palace and I gave them to another one of my assistants, Recon, right before bed. Theresa also came and laid out my clothes for today, that was around eleven thirty. And of course, there were the guards on duty."

"Thank you, Lady Sakuya." Vakarian closed his notebook. "You don't mind if we check these out, do you?"

Sakuya waved her hand tiredly. "Do as you like." She said. "Just . . . just find who did this."

"And be quick about it." Mortimer said. "This is going to be a problem. A murder is going to rile people up just when they're finally settling in."

Argo didn't know if she'd call six weeks enough time to settle in, but the Salamander Lord was right. They didn't need people panicking just as they were starting to feel safe. They needed to nip this in the bud now, and preferably with overwhelming force, make it clear early that there was a still a rule of law and that it would be enforced.

"We'll make it our highest priority." Jensen assured.

'Yeah', Argo thought, 'I'm sure you will.'

Discussion went on between the Faerie Lords. Arrangements were made, a story was agreed upon. Trying to hide a murder would only make things worse, so it would be reported tomorrow morning like any other news, along with mention that an investigation was already under way. That would hopefully buy them a little bit of time.

"We can only hope that this was a crime of passion." Mortimer said. "Otherwise it has the potential to become much worse. I'd like to suggest upping the nighttime patrols."

"It'd mean withdrawing the long range patrols." Thinker warned. "We're short on manpower for the watch units as it is."

"Do it." Mortimer sighed. "We can deal with the consequences of that later. The consequences if there's another murder will be a good deal more immediate."

Thinker exchanged a nod with his Lieutenant. "We agree. I'll have the changes made by daybreak."

"Then that just leaves who's going to announce it." Alicia looked unhappy at the thought. This wasn't the sort of news that someone wanted to be remembered for delivering.

"I'll do it." Sakuya said suddenly. "I'll announce this to the people."

"Are you sure, Sakuya-chan?" Alicia looked worried for her friend.

The Sylph Lord looked away. She couldn't be happy that she had to tally up another dead players. None of them would be. "Novair was one of mine. I'll take responsibility."

"R-right." Alicia said.

Argo had tried not to think too hard about it while she focused on the investigation. It wasn't healthy to think about it too much. You thought too much about it and you started to let your feelings color your perceptions, that was death for an information broker. Objectivity was essential. But it was hard, damn hard.

"Argo-chan." Alicia tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"I said, will you take this job for your normal rate?" Alicia asked again.

The information broker frowned. "I thought you just gave the job to the dynamic duo?" She pointed back to the Undine and Salamander who were currently speaking with abigail about the cadaver. They'd called for a few more watchmen to come and help move the body. Abigail was already requesting permission to put together an ice box in the basement of Arrun tower to serve as a makeshift morgue.

"Did I?" Alicia asked curiously. "I thought that was Mortimer. It must have slipped my mind."

"Okay, okay, I get it. Twas not unexpected. But I'll need some help."

Alicia shrugged. "Just give me a list of names and I'll see what I can do. And I'll assign you a few extra useful people too."

"No need." Argo said. "I can ask him myself."

"Oh?" Alicia said. "That's good. Just remember to stay on guard." She shrugged. "Well, I probably don't need to tell you that."

"Right." Argo nodded as she watched the watchmen.

Just like Mortimer had said, this was either a freak tragedy, or a deliberate act, and one was worse than the other. In one, they just had a murderer on their hands. In the other, they had a murderer with an objective. And in that case, her eyes were drawn to Lord Mortimer who watched clinically as Novair's body was carefully lifted onto a stretcher, who could they trust?

* * *

Kirigaya Kazuto, the Black Swordsman Kirito, now a Faerie of the Spriggan race in the world of Halkegenia, yawned as he made his way down the last flight of steps and into the kitchen of the home he shared with Asuna, Yui, and his sister Suguha.

His arrival was met by a pleasant sizzling and a tantalizing scent that was almost, but not quite, enough to fully rouse him.

Asuna looked up brightly as she heard him enter the room. "Good morning Kirito-kun."

"Jeez Nii-chan," Suguha said from the breakfast table where she was nibbling on a piece of toast, "So slow."

"Un, Papa needs to stop staying up so late." Yui agreed as she sat beside her aunt with a tall glass of orange juice.

Kirito squinted at the two of them and then decided to let it slide, it was too early in the morning to take offense. Besides, he'd been up going over the Tristanian language primers all night, the sooner he learned the written language the better.

Taking his own seat at the table, he perked up as a plate was put down in front of him. Today's breakfast involved fried eggs, bacon, and lentils, though the smell included a hint of something he couldn't quite place.

An herb? Something native to Halkegenia probably. Asuna had been experimenting in the kitchen almost every day, sometimes with Yui's help, sometimes on her own. The results were almost always amazing, even if Asuna kept insisting that 'the mayonnaise was a little too thick, and the Chinese wheat noodles were too soggy'. Then again, she always looked pleased while criticizing her own work

Kirito was grateful. Watching Asuna work thoughtfully at a new recipe or contemplate how to substitute some missing ingredient, those were the times when she looked most at peace.

Kirito wasn't under any illusions, two weeks wasn't even enough time for Asuna to begin the slow process of recovery. She had to put the trauma of SAO, her imprisonment by Sugou, and her month in Albion behind her. Each on its own would have been the work of months or years with a dedicated therapist. Instead, Asuna had him, Yui, Suguha, their friends, and her cooking.

It wasn't everything that she should have been getting, but it seemed to be helping, even if it wasn't perfect. Every day, she seemed healthier and more at ease. Asuna had regained some of the weight she had lost fighting across Albion, the faint gauntness had begun to fade from her features, and the times when she tensed up at the slightest noise were coming less and less often.

That was why Kirito was able to genuinely smile as he looked up from his plate. "It looks delicious."

"It tastes even better." Yui said with a small look of pleasure as she finished with her own plate and returned it to the sink.

"Good enough that Agil-san wants me to talk to his chef about recipes." Asuna agreed.

"What!" Kirito asked around a bite of bacon. Yui had been right, it tasted wonderful.

Asuna's smile only widened at his surprise. "Un, I was visiting with Agil and Eda-san a couple of days ago and they let me use their kitchen. You remember in Aincraid how you said I could probably have auctioned off what I made . . ." She trailed off.

Kirito crossed his arms, feeling suddenly very unhappy. "I don't like it."

"Eh?" Suguha looked confused. "Why?"

"Because if Asuna's cooking gets out," Kirito explained, "It means we'll have to share."

Their was silence at the breakfast table.

"So greedy, Onii-chan." Suguha said in disbelief. "I think its wonderful that Agil-san wants to use Asuna's cooking."

"It's not like he's asking me to come work at the cafe." Asuna added as she started on her own plate. "He just wants me to help come up with recipes with the chef he hired."

That was right, Kirito remembered. The Dicey Cafe, Agil's latest business venture named in honor of his real world shop in Japan, was proving wildly successful beyond even its proprietor's expectations, although Kirito suspected that was partly due to false modesty on the part of Agil.

Serving hot meals during the day and early evening hours and alcoholic beverages later in the night, the Cafe had rapidly become the favored watering hole of the mob patrols and victorious Fae volunteers returning home from their first successful mission.

Now that other entrepreneurs were beginning to crop up and offer competition, it wasn't surprising that Agil would be trying to maintain his edge.

"Well, I can probably accept that." Kirito decided reluctantly. "As long as we get to keep the secret ingredient to ourselves."

"The secret ingredient?" Suguha asked.

Kirito nodded gravely before pointing to Asuna. "Believe me, it's for the best. Agil is even greedier than me. If Asuna starts working for him, he'd have us paying for every morsel."

His sister rolled her eyes like she didn't believe it, but he and Asuna knew the truth about the monstrously ruthless merchant of Aincrad's 50th floor. For all his altruistic tendencies, Agil was still a businessman and could smell a fattened purse at a hundred meters. And it wasn't like they were short on spending money either.

Not long after their odd little family had settled into their new home, they had become the recipients to a small treasury chest delivered by Royal couriers on the behalf of one Prince Wales Tudor, exile Prince of Albion, and one Emily Florence Windsor, exile Countess of Windsor.

The small chest, filled with nested rows of silver and gold coins, was by all accounts a considerable sum, easily more than a well to do petty mage would make in a lifetime. The accompanying letter had begged them to accept it as the least token of thanks for their services that either of the young Nobles could think of.

It made Kirito wonder just what Wales would have given them for saving his life if he'd still had a Kingdom. In either case, the Prince and Countess' gift had left the Kirigaya household financially secure for the foreseeable future, a situation that Kirito was once again thankful for as it gave him more time to spend with Asuna and Yui rather than taking extra jobs from the Faerie Lords.

"Besides." Asuna added thoughtfully. "I need to start making myself useful again. Sugu has her work with the Arrun City Watch, and you've been taking jobs for the Faerie Lords, even Yui-chan is helping at Arrun Home." She looked on dissatisfied. "Really, I'm going to go crazy if I don't find something to do soon. Something other than . . ." She paused as if to make an unspoken correction.

A week ago, Asuna and Kirito had received an offer from Lord Mortimer to take posts in a new Faerie military unit, an elite branch of the militia that was being formed to serve as the Fae's official contribution to the defense of Tristain. The Salamander Lord seemed to believe that their experience could be put to good use training, leading, and fighting alongside the other volunteers.

They had discussed it before concluding that they would likely have to pass. After Asuna had officially disbanded the Knights of Blood she'd had no interest in leading others into battle again, and Kirito wasn't in any hurry to put her back in any danger either.

While this was good for the security of their little family, it did have its own problems. Namely, finding a productive outlet for Asuna to channel her energy. Kirito felt a little bad for speaking so abruptly, anything that let Asuna find meaning in what she loved to do was something he wanted to encourage without hesitation.

Shaking her head, Asuna's smile returned. "Well, it's just a thought. Besides, Agil says if I come up with something good enough he'll give us a cut of the profits."

"Was that why you were experimenting with ramen yesterday?" Suguha asked.

"Un." Asuna nodded. "Ramen noodles were one of those things that weren't included in ALO's food roster so there's no simple recipe or preexisting ingredients for them." She explained knowledgeably. "Really, the noodles are the easy part, but I'm at a loss for where to start for a soy sauce substitute. I think I'm going to have to hunt around the market and try with some of the ingredients native to ALfheim.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out." Suguha said confidently. "Though, that reminds me, when we were taste testing, did Caramella ever explain why she was making Kino wear that ugly orange jumpsuit?"

Asuna shook her head. "No, but it was pretty bad, wasn't it?"

"Mama." Yui tugged at Asuna's sleeve. "Mama, it's almost time to go."

"What?" Asuna glanced over to the clock on the wall and her eyes immediately widened. She got up quickly. "I'm sorry Yui-chan, I completely forgot the time!"

Yui pouted, unlike her Aunt and Parents, the former SAO mental health AI was already fully dressed in skirt, sweater, and stockings, impatiently waiting to start her day. "Mama!"

"Don't worry." Suguha said. "I'll take care of the dishes, you go get dressed and go with Yui."

"Thanks Sugu." Asuna called as she hurried back upstairs.

The past two weeks had seen a routine begin to develop within the Kirigaya residence. After making breakfast every morning, Asuna would depart along with Yui to Arrun Home, a Guild Hall in Arrun's western district that had been re-purposed as an orphanage and care facility for young Fae separated from their families and those who had been left badly disoriented by the transition.

Once again Yui had displayed her origins as a mental care AI, gravitating to a sight of emotional distress and doing whatever she could to put people at ease. While dubious at first, the volunteers that managed Arrun Home had quickly grown to appreciate Yui's help and more often than not her arrival at the orphanage would be met with many smiles both from the staff and the children.

Suguha would leave next to report to Arrun Tower. Her job as a flight instructor having been supplemented by permanent assignment to the highway patrols that now operated in place of the mob elimination units to ensure that the roadways remained clear and that mobs did not move back into previously cleared areas.

At first Kirito had been worried, but after hearing from Klein how his sister had handled herself in Tarbes, he'd withdrawn his objections. Sugu could look after herself, mostly, besides his own jobs tended to ensure that she would be safe.

Kirito would usually leave last, heading down to the Governor's Mansion to see what odd jobs Lady Sakuya or Alicia Rue wanted him for, mostly problem solving and the occasional dangerous mob elimination.

In a way, it wasn't too different from what he had done for almost two years in Aincrad, albeit with a much stronger overtone of real work. The only jobs he was reluctant to take for the time being were those that had to do with the war. He'd just gotten Asuna back, and worrying about the conflict on the horizon was just too much for right now.

As Suguha began to clear the plates, Kirito got up and began to help, two sets of hands making the work go quickly. By the time that Asuna came back downstairs fully dressed, the pans and dishes had already been rinsed and put in the rack to dry.

"Come on Mama!" Yui called, pulling Asuna towards the front door, Kirito following to see them off. "Come on, or we're going to be la . . ." Yui stopped in her tracks as she swung the door open and was immediately face to face with a hooded Cait Syth who had just raised her hand to knock at the front door. " . . . ate . . . Oh." Yui tilted her head, her energy from a moment before briefly forgotten, "Good morning Argo-san."

Removing her hood, Argo the Rat smiled down at the girl, "Good morning to you Yui-chan, off to work with your Mama?"

"Uhuh." Yui nodded seriously. "But its more like Mama is off to work with me."

"So tis bring your mother to work day sa?" The Rat who had become Cat mused. "Well, I won't keep you two."

"Argo-san?" Asuna asked curiously.

"Tis nothing." Argo said with a slightly mischievous smile. "I just have proposition for Kii-bou is all. I might need to borrow him for a few days for a job."

Asuna perked up at the same time as Kirito. "Is this something for the Faeire Lords?"

"Tis exactly so." Argo nodded. "Though in this case tis a task that I was entrusted with and I'd like to outsource to Kii-bou."

Kirito was sure that Asuna was about to probe further when Yui suddenly started tugging on her wrist again. Looking between her daughter and Argo, Asuna gave a small nod. "Kirito-kun can tell me about it later." She smiled. "Just bring him back in one piece."

"No promises." Argo said humorously before watching Asuna and Yui depart, mother and daughter making their way down the street at a leisurely pace among the scant early morning foot traffic. Yui stopped at the end of the street to wave and then she and Asuna disappeared from view.

Almost as soon as they were out of sight, Argo's posture became immediately more tense, like she had been forcing herself to relax up until now.

Kirito sighed, usually he couldn't get a read on his old acquaintance, but now it was almost too easy. "That bad?"

"Tis the understatement of the century." Argo muttered before accepting Kirito's invitation to come in off of the front porch. "I'm just glad Aa-chan didn't catch on, but she's going to hear about it pretty soon, the Fae Lords are planning to announce it within the hour so that they can manage public response." Argo waited for Kirito to finish closing the door. "There's been a murder." She gave the words time to sink in.

Kirito didn't respond immediately, and when he did, it was with resignation. He'd known something like this would happen eventually. Placing a hand over his face Kirito blew out a breath before answering. "Who, how, when, and where? I'm guessing you don't have a why."

Argo nodded. "Novair, Lady Sakuya's secrertary, his throat was slashed around midnight last night, someplace between the Governor's Mansion and his apartment." Argo's ears twitched dejectedly. "And you're right, we don't have a why just yet. That's what you and me are supposed to figure out."

"So you want me to help with the investigation." Kirito concluded. Of course she did. The universe seemed to have decided his life wasn't supposed to be easy.

"Lord Mortimer already has a couple of self styled detectives from the city watch going over the usual suspects. But Alicia wants us to work our own investigation in parallel to catch anything they miss. This is big Kii-bou, really big. If the Faerie Lords don't get the lid down on this, and fast, we could be looking at a full blown panic." Golden eyes narrowed dangerously. "Think how bad things could have gotten back in Aincrad when it looked like someone had found a way to bypass the Safe Zones. Only there aren't any safe zones to bypass anymore, just whatever protection the city watch can provide, nobody is safe."

"This is why you wanted to wait for Asuna to leave." Kirito observed.

Argo looked hesitant. "We don't have many real investigators, or really very many good ones. Kii-bou at least has some experience, but Aa-chan . . . needs a lot more rest." Argo looked strangely troubled. "I don't think we should involve her if we can help it. But it's up to you Kii-bou."

"In other words," Kirito answered, "I'll be the one she blames when she finds out." The universe really didn't like him at all.

The Cait Syth gave a small shrug. "There's not a strategy guide for dealing with a woman scorned, Kii-bou." Argo advised. "But if I could take the blame, I would. You could sleep on my roof tonight if you're that scared." It was almost said as a joke, and it almost managed to inject some levity into the atmosphere, but it was too little, too late.

"Well then." Kirito decided flatly. "I guess its easier to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission . . . I'll go get dressed."


	2. The Dutiful Knight

AUTHOR'S NOTE - Welcome back everyone to version 2.0, written with an effort to making some bug fixes (it hasn't works :-( ) Sorry for the slow updates right now, work has been rather hectic and as always I like to maintain a generous buffer on chapter releases here on as it lets me catch any glaring problems with the plot (my spelling is as always, horrible. If someone wants to Beta they're basically going to have to offer to do the formatting themselves, I just don't have the time right now). As always, cheers and please enjoy, and tell me what you think of the story.

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 1 - Part 2

Be the country at war, suffering famine, or wracked with pestilence, life went on. And wherever there was human life, there was business. It therefore came as no surprise to anyone, that even in these uncertain times, the markets of the Capital were still trading and doing business as they always had. Merchants and ship's captains haggled over prices while coin traded hand between Noble and Commoner alike. It would truly be a sign of the end times when a merchant stopped trying to make money.

Located at the center of Tristania, which was itself positioned at the center of the Kingdom of Tristain, it was not an exaggeration to say that the shops and trading houses of the Capital were the beating heart of Tristain's economy. Merchant's came from miles around to transact trade deals that were the results of smaller concerns and trade branches throughout the country feeding one into the other like tributary streams joining into an immense river of commerce.

Every product imaginable was available for sale here, bulk goods, exotic luxuries, rare reagents and base materials. Nobles and traders arrived daily to enact business deals while commoners and the petty nobility did their shopping side by side in the cramped side streets and alley markets.

It was along one of these streets, less frequented than most, that a small shop had been established and operated for many years. Barely more than an alcove squeezed between two larger businesses. It's small size belied the impossibly rare and exotic goods that found their way onto its shelves.

The Proprietor was a peculiar creature almost worth visiting the shop to see alone, dark skinned and dark eyed, strangely wide nose, and white, white teeth. It had been accepted that he was a former trader with the Rub Al Khali caravans, a native of that distant land who had made his home in Tristain, possibly to escape some great shame or indiscretion.

Ingratiating himself with the denizens of the Capital and using his well established trade connections, any number of items could be purchased through him, and if not, he could almost certainly point someone in the right direction, for a price.

It was as this peculiar man was examining an item from his latest shipment, a meticulously oiled and maintained apparatus delivered by a colleague with connections to the Church of Romalia, that the bell at his door chimed.

Sighing to himself, he returned the dark metallic object and the two boxes of small brass cylinders to the embrace of its oiled, cloth lined box and replaced it beneath the shop counter, another curiosity to be returned to at a later time.

"Welcome." The old merchant said. "How may I be of service today . . . Miss . . ." He trailed off as he looked up.

Well, it wasn't very often that his shop was frequented by a such a petite Mademoiselle. The clientele tended towards the more masculine, and more likely to take offense if watched too closely or for too long.

Yes, petite, pink haired, large brown eyes. He wouldn't have placed her age at much best twelve or thirteen. Was that it? It had been a long time since his own childhood and he'd had rare opportunity to be near children since. A child really had no business here.

"Mayhaps you have the wrong place?" He looked a little worried. "Are you lost Mademoiselle?"

"We're looking for something."

The shop proprietor frowned. The voice had rung out as clear as a bell, soft, firm, commanding, but the girl's lips had not moved at all. Now, he looked up at the hat atop her head, a hat that turned out to not be a hat at all but rather something black and feathered, clinging to the girl's hair and watching him with suspicious yellow eyes.

"Something in particular." The voice spoke again.

Looking just a little further up, the shop owner came face to face with another girl sitting atop the strange feathered creature, who by all appearances save her size would have been the elder of the two girl.

That was it, he thought, rubbing at his eyes, it was her size. She was minuscule, tiny, she would have fit in the palm of his hand! Was such a creature even possible?

Two pairs of wings jutted from her back, arranged like those of the dragonfly's he remembered from his youth, flexing and folding themselves faintly. Suddenly the wings spread wide, and with a delicate hop she flitted from her perch atop the pink haired girl and settled onto the table.

"Specifically, we're looking for more girls like me." She said, gesturing to herself.

Finally, the pink haired girl added something to the conversation. "We heard from another merchant that you introduced a customer to him who was interesting in collecting samples of wild life from the Faerie World. That customer bought six pixies who were illegally poached from the estates of the Count of Tarbes."

The Merchant leaned back in his chair and quickly began to drum his fingers atop his desk. "Poached you say? That is a serious claim Mademoiselle." Just who the blazes was this girl? Certainly not just the child she appeared to be. "I can't simply hand out a clients confidential information. My business depends on my discretion." Some of the products sold in this very shop, while not illegal, would certainly raise questions if their buyers were known.

Instead of answering verbally, the pink haired girl reached into her handbag and retrieved a letter, offering it to the bemused merchant. He began to read, frowned, and then blanched as much as his dark skin would let him.

"As you can see, this is an official investigation." The girl said. "Cooperate with us fully and by order of the crown you will be absolved of any wrongdoing."

This wasn't good he thought, not good at all! He'd had the good sense to keep his head down all of these years. Yes, some of his business dealings had been shady, but he had gone to great lengths never to violate the law or give any reason for attention to be drawn to his little shop. What had that fool Georges gotten him into this time? What to do. What to do.

"Please go on." The Merchant played for time. "Do you have a description of this man?"

The tiny girl, some sort of Fae he realized, tilted her head warily. "You get a lot of clients asking around for pixies, huh?"

"Not at all." He admitted. "But more than you'd think." He raised a hand to still any reply. "You Fae have been the talk of the city since your arrival, plenty of clientele have inquired about anything to do with the lands of ALfheim." He squinted thoughtfully. "In fact, I do believe a few were even asking about these creatures." He gestured to what he could only described as a small dragon which chiruped in response. "So yes, I have received more than a few inquiries. I don't stock live animals, too much trouble, so naturally I sent them on to an associate of mine."

"Georges." The pink haired girl breathed.

He nodded. "Forgive me," he said carefully, "But that is really all I know, unless you've a description of the man who was involved in the purchase."

"A description?" The pixie pacing about on his table asked. She crossed her arms. "Georges-san said he was . . ."

"A fat Nobleman." The pink haired girl finished.

The Merchant sighed slightly. "Mademoiselle, plenty of Noblemen are fat, I'm afraid you might need to be more specific."

The Pinkette nodded thoughtfully. "We didn't really get an exact description, not for lack of trying. It sounded like this man went out of his way not to stand out."

"Also not uncommon among my clients." The Merchant explained. "Look around you Mademoiselle, you see herbs, teas, and spices, yes?"

"I suppose." The girl said, showing every indication that she couldn't identify half of the things on his shelves, of course, most people couldn't.

He smiled. "I make my livelihood with my goods Mademoiselle, but not just these goods. Rare reagents from across the Continent and beyond, medicinal herbs, potions, and clever little artifacts from as far as Rub'al Khali." Artifacts such as the hummingbird sized pistol that was currently tucked beneath his desk, primed and ready to fire with one locking of the flint and a pull of the trigger. "Some of these are simple luxuries, others would greatly embarrass my clients if their patronage was known."

"Then isn't it dangerous to admit as much?" The Pinkette asked warily. Good, a smart girl, smart enough to know the value of discretion.

"Not at all!" The merchant replied with a small bow. "It's something of an open secret. The identities of my clients on the other hand, are not." He shrugged. "But of course, neither are their identities worth imprisonment. I am quite fond of my comfortable life here, so, moving on. What else can you say about this man?"

"Right." The girl nodded. "He arrived with two taller men in his company, both were armed at all times. I'm not sure, but they were probably commoner soldiers or bodyguards."

"Soldiers you say? Then I highly placed Noble. Again, it does little to narrow it down."

"Wait, didn't Georges-san say something else?" The Pixie looked up. "He said . . . he said the man smelled of something very strong, like perfume. Georges-san said it made him nauseous to be around him for long."

"Cologne you say?" And apparently warn badly. The Merchant perked up as a name came to mind. He smiled suddenly, revealing white, white teeth.

* * *

"Terrance de'Martou." Louise pronounced the unfamiliar name carefully as she stepped out of the confines of the shop, barely more than a kiosk squeezed into an alcove between a tailor's and a tavern. "It's a name, but not one I'm familiar with, probably someone without any title to speak of."

"That's not good enough." Botan said unhappily. "We need to know where to find this de'Martou so that we can find my sisters."

The Vespid Knight stroked behind the ears of her mount, a slightly scruffy black feathered dragon that Kirche had decided to nickname 'Schwartz' without consulting anyone but herself. Irritatingly enough, the name had stuck.

Louise reached up to her shoulder and patted Botan's head in turn. She didn't like it, this whole ordeal left her feeling useless. And if there was one thing that Louise Francoise Le Blanc de la Valliere despised more than anything, it was feeling useless. She had to remind herself of the success they had already experienced. Their past two weeks had not been spent in vain.

They had been right to focus their search in the Capital. Tristania was home to any number of curios dealers, merchants specializing in conversational items for the nobility. Usually these were artifacts of some kind, unusual works of art, sculptures, preserved samples of rare insects or flowers, or live animals kept caged specially for show.

Searching these shops had not led them to the lost Pixies, but it had given them their next lead. Through questioning of the legitimate businesses they had eventually found their way into the company of Tristain's lucrative back market dealerships, shops that didn't so much stock inventory as people with the talent to acquire whatever object was desired. Eventually this had lead to an auctioning house well known for its purchase and sale of exotic animals, and from there the link had been made to several buyers.

What they had learned so far was that fifteen pixies had been taken by the treacherous majordomo Fernand and his hired thugs and brought to the Capital to be sold. So far, they had found seven who were alive and well in the company of various Noble families and curio collectors, including most notably a pair who had become the impromptu playmates of the youngest daughter of the Count de Brienne.

Louise grimaced as she remembered the bratty little girl. Sophie Luttece de Brienne had been uniquely petulant in a way that only children under the age of twelve could be. Frankly, it was miracle that the Pixies had survived the week in her care, but they had seemed happy when they were finally discovered and overjoyed to see a Vespid Knight had come to find them at last.

It had been agreed, albeit reluctantly on the part of Sophie, that her new little friends belonged home in their Garden and the Brienne Patriarch had equally grudgingly turned them over to Louise's custody having apparently payed quite a great deal for the unique little creatures. The two Little Sisters were now safe back at the Palace under the careful watch of an attending servant along with four of their fellow siblings while they waited to be returned to Tarbes Garden.

Strangely, one of the Pixies, a Little Sister named Suikazura had been reluctant to leave the care of her human guardian, a wealthy merchant named Baptiste who had purchased her out of pity after seeing her caged in the market. The girl had proven shockingly resistant to Botan's attempts to prod her into returning home, a far cry from the other Little Ones who had obeyed meekly at her slightest urging.

After her third overture had failed, the Knight had grown anxious before asking to depart to send a message back to Tarbes. The whole matter had remained closed to Louise with Botan only muttering that it was essential that a Shaman come to the city as quickly as possible.

Other than this single abnormality however, all seven appeared happy and well cared for, the two from the Brienne household even wearing beautiful new dresses that their young guardian had insisted they keep. Louise sighed, okay, the way that the girl had teared up when saying goodbye, she supposed she couldn't have been that bad. Maybe Hinagiku would agree to let them visit . . .

She allowed her thoughts to wonder and her pace gradually slowed. Of course, it would have been nice if there had been a happy ending for everyone, but there wasn't. Louise and Botan had learned early on that at least two of the Pixies had succumbed to wounds they had suffered in the destruction of their garden.

Louise glanced over her shoulder. Botan's only comfort had been to learn that they had died soon after arriving in the Capital, surrounded by all of their sisters. Still, the distraught Knight hadn't spoken to Louise for the rest of that day.

Louise thought she understood how Botan felt, she was supposed to be different now, able to protect the people she cared about, but in many ways she was still powerless. The bodies, one preserved in a specimen jar and the other buried in a matchbox by a sympathetic warehouse worker, had also been recovered to be returned to Tarbes Garden.

That still left six pixies unaccounted for. Six that could be alive or dead.

The trail had run cold at Georges, a merchant dealing in exotic animals. He had apparently been introduced to his mysterious client through the merchant named Aamir, but as Louise had just learned, frustratingly, Aamir could only provide a name and not occupation or address. But a name might still be enough. The Royal Archives would include tax records after all, if he was a Nobleman, he would be tracked down in short order.

Louise looked up as she stepped into the shadows of a nearby church tower. The sun was beginning to set, it was late enough in the day, her feet were aching, her back was sore, and her shoulder was getting stiff where Schwartz had decided to use her as a roost.

"Botan . . . The shops are going to be closing soon, and we can't do much more today." Louise said. "It's probably best if we go back to the Palace now. Tabitha and Kirche will probably be waiting. We can see if they learned anything else."

Henrietta had offered Louise the full hospitality of the Royal Palace and its staff while she conducted her mission here in the Capital, saying that it was the least she could do after the first half of her assignment had nearly ended so badly. Louise certainly appreciated her Princess's concern.

Thanks to Henrietta she'd been able to gain access to the Royal Archives not only for her own investigation but to continue with her studies and efforts to master her malformed magic. With the help of Kirche and Tabitha she was even beginning to make progress with basic cantrips. She'd been able to cast a mage light for a whole thirty seconds before it had fizzled and -popped- in her face.

It came as a relief in a way, if nothing else she wasn't a _complete _failure, and maybe she didn't need to be an exceptionally powerful mage to be of use. After all, there were many important tasks that didn't require a wit of magic to perform, and she had seen far too many Nobles who simply squandered their god given potential in the past two weeks. It was strange, but she'd never noticed it before, maybe because she was too young, but now . . .

Botan nodded slowly. "You're right, we can't do much more today. Besides, we need to find out who this 'Terrance' person is . . . I worry for them is all."

Louise nodded slowly, Botan thought of her sisters as her responsibility, for her, this mission had a much more personal stake. "I'm sure they'll be alright. Nobody was mistreating any of the other Pixies, even the ones that died, their keepers tried their best to help them."

"Un." Botan looked up. "But . . . if what the other Little Ones have said is right, then none of them were Shamans and Knights. If they're still lost it could become a problem really soon."

Louise tilted her head. "Why would it be a problem, the others were alright without an Elder Sister weren't they?"

The Knight nodded again and then stopped and began to shake her head. "Little Sisters can be very gullible, they're naturally very trusting and obedient." Botan's expression soured. "Hinagiku told me that it came in handy to keep us in line, since she could make up something scary to keep us from leaving the Garden without a Knight, or going someplace dangerous." She shook her head. "I can't believe I was ever that dumb."

"Well, even smart children tend to be that way." Louise agreed gently. "I remember that mother used to put on her armor when she wanted to frighten me so that I would listen."

Of course, her mother had never actually done anything to her while dressed in her armor. Louise had gotten the cane a few times, ten solid swats for misbehaving, and the time she'd hidden until the servants had been in a panic, that had gotten her twenty. But those had all been administered while mother wore nothing but her day to day attire.

"That's not what I'm worried about either." Botan began to ring her hands, face reddening as if thinking of something embarrassing. "My point is that those Little Sisters need an Elder Sister to protect them. And if they can't find one, they might make one for themselves."

Louise's eyes widened. "You mean a Blossoming." She shook her head. "But the others were fine when we met them . . . unless . . . Suikazura?"

Botan looked away awkwardly. "She didn't smell right, and she wasn't listening to me. Normally a Little Sister will do almost anything an Elder Sister says, we're very . . . compelling to them. I think she must be a few days along. That's why we need a Shaman soon. Baptiste-san seems to care a lot for her, but he won't know what to do."

Louise suddenly understood. "But then, what about the other Little Sisters?"

"I think we found most of them fast enough." The Knight explained. "If any of them were starting to Blossom, then they must have stopped when they met me. Or maybe their human caretakers made good surrogates. But this could still be bad, if they're being forced to Blossom before they're ready it could be a lot like . . . well . . . like Sayuri-sama." She sighed. "I'm sorry, but I'm not a Shaman, so I can't say for sure."

"That's okay." Louise tried to reassure her. "But if they Blossom, isn't that good? They'll be able to take better care of themselves while we look for them." Pixies got stronger when they Blossomed right? It made sense to Louise.

Botan looked shocked and for a second Louise worried that she had offended her small companion. "Louise-san . . . how much have do you know about Blossoming?"

Louise frowned. "Only what you've told me."

"Well, it's a very private topic in a lot of ways." Botan hugged herself as she spoke. "Not only is it very physically strenuous, other things happen. Changes to the mind."

"Changes to the mind?" Louise felt a little worried.

"Un. Ever since I came to the Palace, I've been listening a lot to everybody, about Tristain, and . . . and about the war." Botan looked thoughtful as she placed her hands behind her head. "A month ago, I wouldn't have been able to understand most of it. I wasn't smart enough, I didn't think in these ways, the ideas would have been scary or confusing. I think that when Pixies Blossom, in a lot of ways its the same as when Beings, when humans, grow up. Except where you grow up a little at a time, and get used to it a little at a time, it happens to us all at once."

Louise nodded. "That must be hard."

"It is, believe me!" Botan said. "When I was blossoming, it was like parts of my old self were disappearing and I was afraid I would wake up a completely different person, and . . ."

"And?" Louise asked.

Botan smiled weakly. "I did. I'm not the same Botan who started to Blossom in the Forest of Tarbes anymore than you are the Lousie that you were when you were a baby. But I'm born from her the same way that you were born from that Younger Louise. Does that make sense?"

"Okay." Louise thought she understood. "You're saying that we are who we are because of who we were."

"Right." Botan agreed. "In other words a Blossoming is the sacred rebirth of a Little Sister, and at the same time, the birth of an Elder Sister. But there are so many ways that it can go wrong." The Knight looked down angrily. "Sayuri-sama . . ."

"You mean Shion." Louise concluded.

"Yes, Shion." Botan said unhappily. "That's another thing. When I was a Little Sister, Sayuri-sama always seemed so strong, but then, after I Blossomed, I was able to see how sickly and frail she really was. I almost couldn't believe she was the Sayuri that I looked up to, but Hina says that she had been deteriorating since before she'd come to our Garden, so there must have been signs. I guess that was why the other Knights always seemed so anxious, I just couldn't see it."

Louise waited as Botan looked contemplative. They were almost to the Palace now, walking down the densely populate thoroughfare that cut through the heart of the city.

"I don't think . . . I don't think Sayuri-sama was a person, not a whole one anyways." Botan shivered as she said it. "There just wasn't enough of her. The Knight I knew, I think that's all she was, just a Knight given form and nothing else. That's why she withered away, there wasn't anything else in her once her reason for fighting was gone."

"I hate myself for this, but . . . I'm glad that Sayuri-sama wilted away, she died, but now she can really live as the person she was supposed to be all along." Botan's fists balled up, her sorrow just as profound as anyone a hundred times her size. "She suffered so much because she wasn't ready to be a Knight, wasn't even ready to be a Little Sister." The Vespid Knight shook her head angrily. "I have to be sure that doesn't happen to anyone else. I have to!"

Louise reached up to stroke Botan's small head with her thumb. "Can you? I mean, can you stop something like that?"

Botan didn't speak for a while, then, slowly, she sighed. "Maybe . . . if I have to."

Louise blinked, she hadn't heard this before.

Suddenly, Botan began to speak quickly, without any prompting. It sounded like something that had been building up for a while. "Hina spent a lot of time examining Shion once we brought her back to the Garden and then spoke a lot with Florine-san who used her magic to study me and Shion since we'd both just finished Blossoming."

"There's a point at the stem of a Pixie's wing that the Shamans will apply pressure to in order to ease a Blossoming." Botan extended her wings and gestured blindly to the points where the translucent appendages met and fused with the rest of her body. "Florine-san says that those points are probably the glands responsible for regulating our development in Shaman's and Knights. She thinks that, judging by what happened to Sayuri-sama, if we lance those points carefully, we can stop a Blossoming even at a very late stage or even induce a Wilting like what happened to Sayuri-sama."

"But you don't sound happy with that." Louise observed. How could she? Wasn't she suggesting some sort of disfigurement?

"I'm not!" Botan almost shouted. "It's very dangerous. We can't be sure that it will work the way we think it will. And even worse, it could make it so that our Sisters can't ever blossom again! Hina and Florine-san told me that Shion's wing stems are still malformed. We don't even know if she'll be able to grow into a normal Little Sister, much less Blossom into a Shaman or Knight."

Louise could hear the anguish in the small Knight's voice and suddenly her urgency made all too much sense. "That's horrible." She whispered. "Would you really be able to do something like that to your Sisters?"

Botan didn't answer and they continued on their way to the Palace, finally arriving at the front gates where the guards on watch admitted them with a small greetings and a bow to each of them. Henrietta had taken Botan's title of 'Vespid Knight' very seriously after meeting the girl, and she had instructed the Palace staff to accord her the courtesy and honorifics, if not the authority, of a full Chevalier of Tristain.

"We'd only do it if it was absolutely necessary, and if our Sister wanted it." Botan said finally. "But we can't be sure it would be safe. So . . ."

"So?" Louise had a feeling she wouldn't like the answer.

"So, if it becomes necessary, I'll ask Hina to do it to me first to prove that it's safe."

The reply, so calm and matter of fact, caused Louise to stop dead in her tracks. Botan had so casually gone from speaking of disfigurement, to possibly carrying out that same disfigurement on herself!

"How can you say something like that?!"

The Vespid Knight drifted down from Louise's shoulder, smiling sadly. "Louise-san, I am a Knight of the Garden, it is my sacred task to live and die for the sake of my Sisters." Her smile slowly became more genuine. "Don't worry Louise-san, I'm only talking about the worst case."

Louise looked at her aghast, the worst case?! She reached out so suddenly that Schwartz took flight with an indignant "Gyaah!" Snatching Botan carefully out of the air. "D-don't say something like that! If you say that, then it sounds like you've already given up on things turning out alright! And besides, didn't you always want to be a Knight?"

Botan blinked, tilting her head curiously with a bemused expression. "Louise-san, even if that happens, it won't mean I'm not a Knight. In fact, I'd be much less of a Knight if I turned my back on my Sisters. I'd rather rip my own wings off than do that."

"But . . . but doesn't it scare you?" Louise asked lamely.

"Of course!" Botan said almost too happily. "It's not something I ever want to happen, but that's the same as not wanting to die, or not wanting my Sisters to get hurt."

"And you can live with that?"

Squirming from Louise's grasp, the Pixie Knight stood balanced on Louse's lightly balled fists. She nodded. "Because I'm the sort of person that my past self would be proud of."

Louise had no patience for stupid people, but, how did she respond when a person wasn't being stupid?Louise knew that she'd done foolish things in the past, and that it was partly because of her temper. She'd gotten herself into a lot of trouble by not thinking things through. But Botan was willing to risk herself willingly, with her eyes open to the consequences.

How was it that the stronger of the two of them was only a hand span tall?

"Ah, I'm sorry Louise-san, I've upset you!" Botan said quickly. "Come on, it's getting dark." The Knight tugged at the cuff of her blouse. "We should get inside now."

Slowly, Louise began to walk again at Botan's urging, the small Knight acting as if nothing strange had been said. It had to bother her though, didn't it? After all, she wouldn't have mentioned it if it wasn't on her mind. And now she was doing everything she could to stop Louise from thinking about it too.

Sighing inwardly. "Yeah, let's go." Louise said. "I bet that the chefs will have more of those baked apples you like so much. You better hope flying burns off a lot of fat, or you're going to look like an apple before too long!"

"H-Hey!" Botan stammered. "That's not fair! Besides, Kigiku-sama would kick my butt if I got that slow and heavy."

"Then you better start exercising more." Louise replied. "Because Henrietta is going to meet with Lady Sakuya in Arrun tomorrow about the Pixies, and I heard her say that all of the Garden's we've contacted so far are sending Representatives. Since we'll have to wait for the Archives to find who Terrance is and where we can find him, it probably wouldn't hurt for you to go and see them."

"W-what?!" Botan stammered, her calm completely lost. Good, so she could be shaken, that was a lot more reassuring than the thought that she might be crazy. "Why wasn't I told about this?!"

"I mentioned it at breakfast." Louise said casually. "But someone wanted to hurry out and get an early start today."

"You didn't say that at all!" Botan accused.

"Did too." Louise said.

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not! Did not!"

They continued like that all the way down the walk to the Palace.


	3. Vandals

Note: Watching the English Dub of SAO, I have to say, Argo's Cameo has the most ANNOYING english voice EVER!

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 2 - Part 1

Having caught a wild Kii-bou to help in her investigation, Argo and her new partner had immediately set to work.

Departing from the Kirigaya residence, they made their way out onto Arrun's wide main thoroughfare. They could have flown to Arrun tower, but this gave them more time to talk about the investigation and what they would be doing.

The walk also drove home something that was growing clearer every day. Arrun was not the Town of Beginnings, and Tristain was not Aincrad.

Despite his best efforts and incredible attention to detail, the mad genius Kayaba Akihiko had not been able to completely erase the sense of artificiality within his virtual world.

No matter how completely they had been immersed, no matter how carefully the setting had been crafted, the players had never lost the sense that they were shaded inhabiting a virtual environment. The constant little reminders had added to the sense of desperation as they recalled what was happening to their real bodies IRL each day that they remained trapped.

But here in Halkegenia, the atmosphere was completely different. There was a growing acceptance that they were in a new reality, actually inhabiting their new bodies, and with that had come an unspoken acceptance that life could go on.

Twenty thousand people, Argo thought. That was the population of Arrun. That was twice the total number of players in Aincrad on the first day of SAO. It was three times the number who had survived to the end. Twenty thousand real people. People who weren't just waiting to be rescued or fighting to save themselves, but doing their best to keep on living.

And now, that life was beginning to spread into Arrun, changing the former MMO hub into a living, breathing place.

Industrious entrepreneurs were beginning to move into the abandoned NPC run shops, first the skilled tradesmen selling services to those few Faeries with some form of disposable income. Then there had been the craftsmen and alchemists who were starting to apply their expertise to produce goods for sale beyond the borders of the Faerie cities.

The crafters needed raw materials to work with, which they had traded for with the Mob Patrols who had started to monetize their work, breaking down and selling off the mob carcasses. There were even talks off setting hunting quotas and domesticating the more useful animals with Cait Syth taming techniques.

The nascent cycle of commerce had started spreading the money around. By now, there were even a few restaurants cropping up to compete with the Dicey Cafe, catering to the needs of the ever busy Fae workforce who didn't have time to cook much for themselves.

An Undine merchant had just finished laying out his morning catch atop blocks of magically conjured ice. Fresh fish from the rivers and estuaries surrounding Arrun and its attendant lake.

An Imp woman and a male Salamander, probably her boyfriend, were haggling with a Gnome on the purchase of some spices.

A Lyre of Puca chattered with one another as they ate breakfast beneath the shade of an awning.

Argo looked all around, sharp eyes counting the people while sensitive Cait Syth ears picked up snatches of conversation and acute sense of smell picked apart the tableaux of scents.

That was something she and some of the other Caits were still gradually getting used to. Sharpened senses and affinities had only grown sharper as the former players grew accustomed to their new bodies. The sensory overload had been disorienting at first, but by now Argo could barely imagine living without it. It definitely made it easier to eavesdrop and to pick up on the mood in the streets.

Right now, people were relaxed, even happy. The morning streets were suffused with a gentle energy as the inhabitants of Arrun woke up and performed their morning rituals before hurrying off to whatever jobs they had found for themselves, even if most were still looking for permanent employment rather than something to occupy their time.

It wouldn't be long before this carefree atmosphere was shattered by the official announcement of the murder. That was when things would start getting interesting.

"So, we have one murder at some time around midnight last night." Kirito repeated quietly. "Then the body was disposed of outside of Arrun."

"We think the perp was hoping the mobs would clean up the evidence." Argo's ears twitched thoughtfully. "Luckily they didn't think it through well enough. The mob patrols have done a good job of keeping the area around Arrun cleared out, and the night watch has been running regular patrols."

"I wouldn't say that's lucky." Kirito mentioned, sticking his hands into his pants pockets. "It would have been lucky if the patrols had caught the perp dumping the body, or seen and stopped the murder."

Argo hissed tiredly. "Yeah. You're right, tis not lucky at all. But tis all we've got to start from. Right now, we don't have a motive and we don't have a suspect. All we have is a corpse on our hands."

"Then we should start there while the trail is still warm." Kirito looked reluctant, having to face a real corpse still wasn't something either of them was used to. Aincrad might have prepared them for a lot, but not for this.

"Abigail-san said she might have something for us by morning, so we'll check with her first." Hopefully it would give them a clue about Novair's last moments.

Glancing over her shoulder, her Spriggan partner seemed to have turned inward, lost in his thoughts. Argo felt a hint of trepidation, maybe involving Kii-bou hadn't been such a good idea. But she hadn't been able to think of anyone else. She'd wanted someone she knew she could trust and who would compliment her own thinking. And really, that narrowed it down to Kii-bou or Aa-chan.

She'd thought Kii-bou would be the better equipped of the two to handle this, which was why she had gone to him, but maybe she was wrong. Her thought processes stopped dead as she ran a mental diagnostic, examining the idea before discarding it as irrelevant. Her own thoughts and opinion didn't matter, it was what it was. If Kii-bou couldn't handle this, then she would apologize and continue on her own.

The ground entrance to Arrun Tower was busy, busier even than the landing at the top of the tower, but the wide base with its multiple entrances helped to diffuse the foot traffic from a tightly packed commuter rush into a much more leisurely stroll.

Reaching the elevators at the center of the lobby, Argo gestured for Kii-bou to get in first before adjusting the lever control mechanism to a small **B** at the bottom of the floor selection list.

With a soft click of releasing safety locks and a faint hum of the suspending cables, the elevator began to sink through the floor of the lobby.

"A basement level?" Kii-bou looked about with sudden interest, his instincts as a clearer immediately coming to the forefront as he imagined hidden treasure and juicy, hidden leveling spots.

"Relax Kii-bou, tis nothing that interesting." Argo joked. "Arrun Tower Subterranean Arcade its where all of Arrun's best NPC shops were located. There's plenty of extra space down here now, so Abigail-san turned one of the old Apothecary Shops into her lab."

The elevator finished descending through the thick stone floor, coming to rest at the bottom of a three story high space surrounded by elevated stone walkways and shop fronts, and illuminated by skylights formed from the crystal floor of the lobby above their heads.

"I never even knew this existed." Kii-bou muttered softly to himself.

Argo grinned, there was nothing better than seeing a Kii-bou out of his element. "Tis not a secret that this place exists sa. But tis not a place you'd find without exploring a little either." Then mischievously she added. "Kii-bou's always been good at that, but I bet you and Aa-chan have been getting up to a different kind of exploring lately." Not that she'd tell anyone, then again, it wasn't like people couldn't guess.

Kii-bou's expression had totally been worth the jab, even if it meant she'd have to wait a few days to try Aa-chan's cooking again.

"So where is this Apothecary's." Kirito asked a little too quickly, following behind Argo towards one of the side halls that branched off from the elevator lobby.

"Just this way, it's near a back entrance, tis not much farther at all."

They knew they were getting close when they saw a pair of board looking Cait Syth standing guard. Both Caits looked ready to fall asleep any minute now.

Argo clicked her tongue at both, causing them to stand up straight and offer clumsy half salutes. Being in good with the Leader of the 'Glorious Cat Girl Alliance' had its advantages.

"You going to see that Gothic Lolita?" One of the Caits asked Kii-bou.

"Un." Kirito looked surprised to have been asked. "Is something wrong?"

The Guard shrugged. "Just remember to keep her on track. A friend of hers brought her some fruit drink a while ago and she's been wired up ever since."

He waved them past before leaning back against the wall and returning to a hushed conversation with his partner. Pivoting one ear, Argo made out enough to gather that they were worried they would need more guards down here once news of the murder went public.

"Maybe we could set up a barricade." The other guard suggested.

"And risk some idiot trying to bust through with magic? No thanks. Besides, then they'll really think we're hiding something. Do you really want that twerp Netzel snooping around?"

Argo made a mental note to look into the name before she and Kii-bou turned the corner into the Apothecary's shop and the conversation became muted beyond even her Cait Syth hearing.

Abigail had wasted no time in making the shop her own, clearing out the decor, the mechanical register, the rows of dripped wax candles, and the pots of incense, and replacing them with bright white ore lamps, appraisal tools re-purposed as crude forensic aids, and piles of books from her own home in the Arrun outskirts.

About the only thing that she had kept from the original shop was the glassware and a prop skull, at least Argo hoped it was a prop, that she kept on her desk.

The Spriggan girl looked up quickly as the entry bell rang. "Oh, Argo-san, you're here! Wait, you're here!"

Argo nodded slowly in confusion. "Where else would I be sa? I said I'd be back once I'd found my partner." She pushed Kirito forward. "By the way, this is Kirito-san."

"Kirito?" Abigail stood up a little straighter. "The Black Swordsman, right?"

Kii-bou looked nonplussed at the casual use of his old epithet. "Un, that's me." He admitted reluctantly.

"Just let me say, I'm honored to meet you." Abigail bowed. "I've heard about everything you did at Newcastle, some of my friends were in the Raid and . . ."

"Abigail-san." Argo butted in, snapping her fingers in front of the latest addition to the Kirito fan club. "Tis not the time for that. You were saying something about us being here?"

"Oh no, I didn't mean it like that! I meant you're here . . . but you're here too early." Abigail spoke quickly spoke in quick stops and starts before realizing that she hadn't actually answered the question. "I mean, I'm done, but I was hoping I'd have a second opinion by the time you got back." She waved her arms about before snatching a large mug from the table and taking a long sip through a thin bamboo straw.

"A second opinion?" Argo reached out and plucked the mug from the girl's hand, putting it back down on the table. "So you found something?"

"Well, yes, maybe . . . I think so." The slight Spriggan tugged at a dark pigtail. "But I wanted someone else to look it over too, I've only seen this stuff in books before." She looked between Argo and Kirito. "I think it'll be faster if I show you."

The amateur forensics specialist led them to the back her lab to where the door to the stock room had been heavily covered over in quilts, cut up, and nailed to the door's surface as hasty insulation. Stepping inside, they were met by chill air and wet stone flooring, courtesy of a half dozen man sized slabs of ice that filled the room along with a solitary table atop which rested the remains of the deceased.

Argo felt her tail twisting about involuntarily beneath her cloak, and not just because of the cold. Novair had been one of her contacts with Sakuya's staff, so she'd talked to him from time to time. In fact, she'd known him casually even before the Transition. It wasn't a serious personal investment, but it was enough to make her remember that she had spoken to and known the person who had once inhabited this lifeless shell.

Novair, the remains, Argo corrected herself clinically, were laid out flat on the table, a thin sheet offering a modicum of dignity. The eyes had been closed out of respect, but otherwise, the body looked to have been left as it had been the night before, the brutally torn open throat leaving the head attach only by a shred of skin and muscle around the vertebrate.

Abigail was hardly disturbed by the gore as she circled around the body and adjusted an ore lamp and some mirrors to illuminate the area around the neck.

"So anyways. Once we finished up at the crime scene and moved the body here, I was able to do a much closer examination, and I found a couple of interesting things that could be important. First off, the cause of death was a slit throat . . . "

Argo felt the urge to face palm slowly rising. "No, I would never have guessed."

"Ah, no." Abigail elaborated. "The cause was a slit throat, I mean his throat was slashed, all of this," She framed Novair's neck with her hands, "Was done after death judging by the looks of things, at least, his heart had definitely stopped beating by then."

The information broker paled as this new detail began to sink in. "Wait, you're saying the killer disfigured the body after killing him?" She heard Kii-bou suck in a breath beside her. This wasn't a good sign. A brutal murder was one thing, but this reeked of someone leaving a calling card.

"It looks that way." Abigail answered. "And that's not all that I found. Once I got the body back here I was able to examine it much more closely under the light. There's bruising over Novair's left side, which means his heart must have still been beating when he received the injuries.

"So he tried to fight back?" Kirito concluded.

"Maybe." Abigail raised a cautioning hand. "I didn't find anything that could conclusively be called a fight wound. No clean cuts, just some scratches and abrasions, and Novair's dagger was still in its scabbard. At a guess, it's probably a sign that his attacker ambushed him, some of these look a lot like fall injuries, so maybe they got the drop on him while he was in flight and then cut his throat on the ground."

"Argo, do you know Novair's build?" Kii-bou asked. "By the way, I'm not paying to find out."

Ears twitching as she thought, Argo nodded slowly. "He was a Skirmisher for the Sylph army, one of their scouts. Speed type build with an emphasis on perception and battle awareness. He wasn't a lousy fighter either."

An ambush made sense the more she thought about it, inside of the walls of Arrun, Novair would have almost certainly have been able to hold his own long enough to call for help.

"Those skills transferred over during the Transition." Kii-bou said thoughtfully, and then grimaced. "If he was ambushed, it would have had to have been someone with high stealth or illusion abilities or else . . ."

"Or else?" Argo prompted.

Her partner looked uncomfortable. "Or else it was someone he knew."

She winced, that was a very real possibility, and it was tempting to think that way since it would give them a ready made list of suspects, but somehow it didn't smell right to Argo. Not enough to rule it out, but not enough to make her believe it either.

"Is that what you think?" Argo asked.

"It's possible, maybe, but I don't think so." Kii-bou held up two fingers. "For one, if the person knew Novair well enough, they could have caught him completely by surprise or else used some indirect method like poison."

"Yeah, but people aren't always very rational, Kii-bou." Argo pointed out. "Especially not people who commit murder." Something had to be very wrong with a person to do something like this in the first place. "What's the other reason?"

Kii-bou frowned as he turned back to the body. "I was thinking that if this was a crime committed for personal reasons, I don't see why they would would have disfigured the body before trying to get rid of it."

"I wouldn't call that conclusive either." Argo countered.

If it had been a personal matter, a crime of passion, or some sort of revenge, the killer might have done it out of anger. Except now she was creating a narrative. She wanted to kick herself. At this rate she was just yanking her own tail.

"Look, what we do know is that whoever did this probably got the drop on Novair and deliberately disfigured the body. They probably did it inside of Arrun so it would have had to have been done fast and clean. That means _either_ an ambush _or _someone who knew him." She ticked off each point on her hand. "Is that all, Abby?"

"Almost." Abigail said. "There's one more thing. We were guessing earlier that Novair's body was moved before rigor mortis had set in. I think I can confirm that now." Reaching down, the Spriggan Lolita pulled the sheet down to just below Novair's navel and began to point at places along the un-bruised side of the corpse. "Like I said, there was faint bruising on the left. But while I was performing my examination I found fractures and dislocations on the right side with no corresponding inflammation. I think this was caused when the body was moved. It's like they just tossed him down from midair."

"They probably didn't want to get caught carrying the body." Argo concluded. "That would have made our job a lot easier. Okay, thanks for all of this. Get back to us once you've had it double checked. Have the Dynamic Duo been down to see you yet?"

"Dynamic Duo?" Kii-bou parroted.

"Our competition. I'll tell you about them later." She sighed.

"You mean Jensen and his partner?" Abbigail asked. "No, not yet. I wasn't done with my examination so they decided to start with Novairs office. I think they're still up there."

'Probably leaving everything out of place'. Argo grew alarmed. Well, that was why Suisen was keeping an eye on them, without their permission. She was just spying a little after all. "Please tell me they have someone with them."

"Oh, I think Recon-san is keeping an eye on them." Abby said.

Argo turned on her heel to leave, grabbing hold hod Kii-bou by the wrist. "Come on."

"What next?" Her partner asked quietly.

She snorted as if it was the stupidest question in the world. When the blood trail ran cold, switch to the paper trail. "Adventures in filing."

* * *

Tired . . . Sakuya felt fatigued as she stepped off the counterweight driven lift that connected the ground floor of Arrun tower to the upper levels where she kept her daytime offices.

She'd barely slept in the past twenty four hours, relying on catnaps and her Faerie constitution to keep her going, between Novair's murder and everything else that was on her schedule she'd hardly had time to think much less sleep.

'Novair'. Sakuya bit her lip.

Only after he was gone did she realize how much she had depended on him. For organization, for advice, for everything. And more than that, was the stinging feeling of loss. They hadn't been close friends, but they had become acquainted with each other more and more in the past weeks. She owed him a great deal that she would never have the chance to repay.

She wanted nothing more than to keep abreast of the ongoing investigation as it developed, but her duties as a Leader constantly redirected her attention elsewhere, and with her chief aid gone, she was struggling more than ever to keep up.

Composing herself, she made her way across the wide lobby and out onto Arrun Tower's broad landing to where her noonday appointment was waiting for her. That was right, the scholar in her had been looking forward to this for over a week. Even given the dire circumstances, she found that she had to smile at the delegation of tiny figures standing atop a table near the lobby entrance.

A small crowd of curious Faeries had gathered, watching Arrun's latest arrivals with open interest. By now, rumors of the Pixies discovered in Tarbes had been heard by just about every Faerie in Tristain and it had become a major topic of idle conversation in the streets and homes of the Faerie City. Everyone wanted to know more about them, hear more about them, and the gossip starved populous who had grown up in the information age had rapidly started to eat their collectives tales as they waited to learn more.

"Good afternoon, Shaman Hinagiku of Tarbes Garden." Sakuya nodded respectfully to the green robed girl who had stepped forward as she approached.

"And a good afternoon to you, Lady Sakuya of the Sylphs." The dark green haired shaman answered back with a delicate little bow. "On behalf of all of my Sisters, thank you for having us here to discus the safety of the Gardens. The Capital of the Skies is as beautiful as I have heard, and doubly blessed to reside beneath the branches of Mother Yggdrasil."

Sakuya smiled awkwardly at the compliment. She had read all of the reports, those composed by Argo, as well as the original reports submitted by Leafa, KoKo, and Yui. There really was no precedent for the what the Pixies were. As far as could be told, once nothing more than sophisticated AI mobs, the Pixies had become fully actualized, intelligent beings, complete with there own meticulously detailed memories derived from ALfheim's lore.

How such a thing had been done, much less been possible in the first place, was completely beyond the comprehension of the former college student now Leader of the Sylphs, and the existence of the Pixies had raised as many questions as they had answered.

The patrols had fought some of the more intelligent mobs on several occasions, ALfheim Orcs, Kobolds, Beast Men, and the Evil Dwarves that inhabited the deep tunnels of the Gnomes and several of the subterranean Corridors. They had been some of the most dangerous opponents encountered by the mob elimination units, displaying a frightening level of cunning and a knack for taking refuge in the deep forests and back countries.

There had also been sporadic sightings of other human or Fae like creatures in the forests, foot prints that disappeared suddenly, and native Orcs found killed by crude arrows and knives, their scalps staked to nearby trees as a warning.

Argo had compiled a list of all of Alfheim's known humanoid type mobs as well as mobs noted for possessing particularly sophisticated behavior or high intelligence. She supposed they should just be grateful that Jotunheim was far beneath them, the Boss level Mobs trapped safely within, and the entrances extemely well guarded.

However, Sakuya had barely had time to read the report, much less digest its contents, there simply hadn't been enough time. And so long as the remaining Mobs were keeping out of the way, intelligent or otherwise, they really couldn't spare the manpower to go out looking for trouble. For the time being, the patrol units had simply been ordered to keep on the lookout and report back any suspicious activity.

Were these creatures now intelligent like the Pixies? How many other mobs had gained intelligence and what were the prerequisites? Had they all been furnished with such intricate false memories? Could they be reasoned with? These were the least of her questions and by speaking with the Pixies she hoped to have some of them answered.

Which brought Sakuya back to the petite Shaman standing before her along with a dozen of her sisters, more of the Shamans and Vespid Knights that lead and protected the Pixie Gardens. It had taken all of this time for the mob Patrols to locate the Pixie Nests, but they could at least be reasonably confident they had found all of them.

Mostly hidden away in the forests or in back fields, the Garden Pixies had been cautious when approached by the Faerie scouts, but most had been friendly and willing to talk. Unlike Tarbes Garden, the other Gardens had been located far from any permanent human settlements and so they had heard and seen little to alert them to what had been happening all through Tristain.

Tilting her head, Sakuya noticed something out of place about the Pixie girl. Something, or more aptly, someone, was clinging to Hinagiku's side, watching Sakuya curiously with big, pale blue eyes.

"And who might this be?" Sakuya asked gently, smiling as the girl hurriedly hid berself behind the Shaman, sans her comically oversized wings that poked out despite her best efforts.

"Oh." Hinagiku reached around, gently guiding an even smaller girl by the shoulders until she stood in front of her facing Sakuya. "Lady Sakuya, this is Shion, a Little Sister under the care of our Garden."

"Shion?" Sakuya asked. She'd read that name in the report. The fallen leader of the Vespid Knights?

The girl didn't look it at all, in fact, she didn't look like any sort of fighter. That would have been the result of the Wilting that Yui had described in her report. At the slightest prompting from the Shaman, Shion stepped forward and curtsied. "I-It's an honor to meet you Lady of the Fae of Winds." She said in a small voice before looking about the gigantic lobby of Arrun Tower with open fascination.

"It's a pleasure to meet you to Shion-chan." Sakuya shared a smile with the girl.

The other Pixies listened curiously. The Shamans, delicate, moth winged girls, conversed among themselves while the Knights calmly kept watch. Each of the Shamans represented one of the Pixie Gardens and hundreds of Pixies. Hundreds of small, newborn lives that were now partly under the stewardship of Sakuya and the other Faerie Lords.

As the events of Tarbes had shown, the Pixies were devastatingly vulnerable to exploitation along with being largely ignorant of events beyond the confines of their Gardens and their immediate surroundings. Sakuya hoped to have them added to the settlement treaty with Tristain as quickly as possible so way they would afforded some legal protection against abuse

In some ways this was nothing more than a diversion from the endless day to day running of Arrun, the war meetings, and her constant commutes between Arrun, Sylvain, and Tristania. The small lives of the Pixies were exactly the sort of thing that might be swept aside by the tides of larger events. But that was why Sakuya had decided to pay attention, taking time out of her busy schedule to meet with them personally rather than delegating to a subordinate.

Sakuya regarded Hinagiku curiously. "I've been told that your Sisters have elected you to represent them."

The Shaman nodded. "Yes, not just my own Garden, the other Shamans have agreed as well. Since our Garden was the first to meet peacefully with the beings." She shifted slightly on her feet. "That is . . . After being the first to meet violently with them."

"Hopefully we can put that behind us." Sakuya said. "The Crown of Tristain has been very courteous with us over the past month, so I can't imagine there will be any trouble."

"Actually." Hinagiku said, looking about. "If I may ask. I was told that there would be someone here to represent the Kingdom of Tristain as well."

Sakuya gestured to the landing nearby doors that led out onto Arrun Tower's landing. "She'll be here soon."

Princess Henrietta had taken a personal interest in the plight of the Pixies and had informed Sakuya that she would be acting as Tristain's observer and representative. This was good, with the Princess on their side things could move quickly.

The minute hand of the timepiece located over the landing entrance only had time to complete a sixth of an arc before the the crowds coming and going through the grand doorways began to swiftly part, making way for a quartet of Tristanian Mancticore Knights, and in their company, Princess Henrietta de Tristain.

"Good afternoon Lady Sakuya." The Princess said affectionately, warmly taking Sakuya's hand as she smiled.

Henrietta was in much better cheer today than she had been when Last Sakuya had been given the chance to speak with her in person. The success of Tristain's recent military venture, and the rescue of her Prince having put the Princess much at ease. Well, at least someone was happy.

The Princess's smile was short lived as she let her hands fall in front of her. "I heard about Novair. You have my condolences. Please, if you need any assistance in your investigation," Henriette shook her head slowly, "Do not hesitate to ask."

"Thank you Princess." Sakuya replied. There was something about Henrietta that came as a relief to her. It was in no small part due to the Princess's sincerity that they were where they were today. "We may accept your generous offer if we fail to make progress on our own. But that isn't what we're here to discuss." No, it was too painful, this was supposed to take her away from thinking about it. "Thank you for taking time to meet with us on such short notice."

Henrietta looked amused. "Not at all, I'm always happy to extend the hospitality of the Royal Family, besides," her smile widened, "I could hardly let these little ones come all this way by themselves."

"Little ones?" Hinagiku asked and then her eyes widened as the Princess stepped aside so that a familiar pink haired girl could come forward in the company of half dozen pixies and a black feathered dragon.

"Botan-sama!" Shion shouted, jumping into the air and grabbing hold of a Vespid Knight standing atop the pink haired girl's shoulder.

The Knight returned the embrace, gathering her smaller sister in a tight hug and spinning her about. "Shion." The girl laughed warmly. "And you're speaking more clearly now, no 'Bo-tan'?"

"Un." Shion nodded eagerly. "Hi-chan has been helping me practice and I can even use my wings a little now, see?" She demonstrated, fluttering the pair of comically oversized, translucent appendages with only the slightest hint of effort.

"That's wonderful Shion. I want to hear all about it." The Knight finally put her sister down. "But first, I want you to meet some of your sisters."

The other Pixies began to drift up one by one, surrounding Shion who looked about, eyes wide with excitement. "This smell, you're all from my Garden!"

"Botan-sama has told us all about you Shion." One of the girls, dressed in what Sakuya thought had to be a doll's dress, complete with ribbon and beret, took both of Shion's hands in her own. "We're all so glad to finally meet you."

"The Garden Survivors." Hinagiku whispered. "You've found so many!"

"Seven." The petite pink haired girl reported. "These six and one more who didn't want to leave the Capital." She looked a little awkward. "Uhm, Botan says we need to send a Shaman to keep an eye on her . . ."

Hinagiku's brows rose, she nodded quickly. "Of course, I'm sure one of my Sisters can volunteer." The Shaman looked up at the girl gratefully. "Thank you so much for helping to find them Louise-san."

Louise? That was why Sakuya recognized the girl. Louise de La Valliere, the daughter of Duchess Karin de La Valliere. They had met very briefly before, and she had been assigned to the Tarbes mission along with Leafa and Yui.

"It wasn't anything." Louise said softly. "We know that there are still six more that we need to find, and . . ." She trailed off " . . . and there were two others." She fell totally silent. "I'm sorry."

"I see." The Shaman's look of joy faded slowly to be replaced with a kind of look of sympathy. "We can speak about this more later Louise-san." The Pixie attempted to comfort the girl who was hundreds of times her size. "Still, thank you for all of your help, you've been a true friend to us."

"Miss Hinagiku." Henrietta stepped forward. "On behalf of the Crown of Tristain, I would like to extend my apologies for the difficult times that you and your Garden have faced. You've been badly wronged and that wrongdoing won't be set right until we can ensure it doesn't happen again."

"Thank you Princess," Hinagiku said, "We're all grateful for the help you've already given us, especially for sending Louise and the others."

Sakuya glanced at the clock and felt herself gaining speed. She had a meeting with the Arrun City Council in two hours and then back to back planning sessions with Thinker and Rute after that. They needed to get started quickly so that the Pixies could properly present themselves before the other Faerie Lords this evening. With any luck, this could all be finished by tomorrow.

"If you would please follow me this way Princess, Hinagiku-san, we can . . ."

The sound of shouting in the near distance silenced Sakuya. The Sylph Leader's ears perked suspiciously as her whole body went tense. Something was wrong. The Manticore and Vespid Knights were immediately on edge, reaching for their respective weapons, ready to protect their charges from any threat.

"Lady Sakuya!" An Imp was running closer waving his hands about frantically, he was one of Zolf's people.

Sakuya stood tall, gathering the sleeves of her robes before her. "What is the meaning of this?" She asked with every ounce of Commanding Presence she could muster.

The Imp looked around frantically as if somehow struck that she had replied. "It's . . . I . . . come see for yourself Lady Sakuya, someone has vandalized the side of Arrun Tower!"

Sakuya exchanged glances with Princess Henrietta. "We certainly didn't see anything just a moment ago." The Princess looked confused.

The Lady of the Sylphs grimaced inwardly as she followed at the Imp's urging. First a murder, and now petty vandalism, she didn't know which was more unbelievable. Sweeping out onto the Landing, Sakuya saw dozens of Faeries, messengers awaiting dispatch and those who had been arriving or departing on their own business, they were of every Race and build, but every one of them was staring up at the side of the tower.

She couldn't see what they were looking at from this angle, nor did she intend to waste any more time finding out. Summoning her wings, Sakuya stepped off the side of the landing and immediately took flight, banking around the spire until she could see what had grabbed everyone's attention for herself. When she saw it, she hissed in surprise. This was . . .

It was quite clear how Henrietta and her guards might have missed the vandalism. The vandal hadn't defaced Arrun Tower itself, but rather had hung a large canvas square from the tower's summit, all they would have needed to do was was sneak it up during the night and then cut it loose and let it unfurl like a banner. It would make cleanup easier at least, but that wasn't what was on Sakuya's mind as a pair of Sylphs flew up to meet her.

"Lady Sakuya!" Emshael reported, gliding to a halt beside her, he turned to look back at the tower and simply stared. "What the hell is this?!"

"This," Sakuya said as she looked at stylized Sylph Crest crossed out in black paint, "Is someone voicing their discontent."

Most of all, her eyes came to rest on the blood red writing, sloppily painted across the canvas is letters so large they could have been read from street level.

**SHE IS NOT YOUR LORD!**


	4. Talks With a Cait

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 2 - Part 2

"I just don't get it!" Louise proclaimed as she flopped back down on the heavily stuffed sofa that took up most of one wall of KoKo's residence.

The apartment, barely more than a bedroom, closet, and narrow kitchen located at the corner of one of Arrun's many multi-story buildings, was smaller than her room at the Academy, much less the apartments she had all to herself at the Royal Palace. But after finishing their interrupted meeting with the Lady of the Sylph and parting ways with Henrietta, Louise had felt like it hadn't been right pass up KoKo's kind offer while she was in Arrun.

Besides, it had given her an opportunity to voice her questions in private, hopefully to someone who could give her an explanation.

"What don't you get?" The question came from the Cait Syth woman busying herself over the stove in the narrow galley kitchen.

KoKo hummed to herself as she worked over the stove, scandalously dressed by Tristanian standards in a pair of black shorts and a loose, midriff baring, cotton shirt that would barely have qualified as undergarments but which KoKo insisted were her 'around the house' clothes.

A faint sizzling rose from a pan as she swiftly mixed the contents about with a metal spatula, adding a dollop of oil that struck the black metal with a -hiss-.

What didn't she get?! Louise waved her arms. "That banner! They insulted Lady Sakuya in front of the whole city!"

"Shh!"

Sitting on the arm of the sofa, Botan raised a finger to her lips. Curled up at her sister's side, Shion's diminutive form stirred before snuggling closer to her beloved elder sibling, sinking back into a deep sleep. Shion might have been a pixie, but Louise thought that she'd been as devious as any human child when she'd pleaded and prodded at her guardians until they let her spend the night with Botan.

"S-sorry." Louise whispered with a blush before turning back to KoKo. "But how could she just let them get away with that?"

Louise could tell from the way her tail continued to twist and curl that KoKo's silence was one of contemplation rather than dismissal. "Well first, the watch doesn't know who did it. The Vandals ran as soon as they unfurled their banner."

She removed the pan from the stove, allowing the contents to continue sizzling, steam and grease floating up through an overhead vent. Whatever she was cooking, it smelled strange, and wonderful.

By the time the guards had flow up to the top of Arrun tower, all that had been left was an empty roof top. The vandals had managed a clean escape. Wings certainly made fleeing the scene of a crime much easier. Louise idly contemplated what this might mean if more Fae Criminals and Brigands began to crop up.

"And what's the second?" Louise rested her elbow against the free arm of the sofa.

"Well," KoKo said thoughtfully, "Secondly, even if the vandals are found, Lady Sakuya won't punish them."

Louise was left speechless, had she just heard that correctly? "Won't punish them?" She parroted to buy time for her mind to try to make sense of what had been said. Her mental flexibility had by leaps and boundsin the mere month's time that she had known the Faeries, but still she couldn't fathom what had just been said.

"Un." KoKo began to elaborate while she transferred the contents of the large black pan onto two plates and a small custard cup. "Oh, when they're found, they'll definitely be in trouble for vandalism and for causing a public nuisance. I think that means either a fine or mandatory service with the City Sanitation crews . . . " She trailed off before shaking her head. "But, that's beside the point, Lady Sakuya can't and won't punish them for what they said."

"B-but, an insult like that . . ." Louise trailed off. Didn't KoKo understand?

Louise had gathered that KoKo and most of the other Fae were reasonably well educated, at least in the terms of their own lands. In Tristain's terms, almost all of the Fae would have been members of the Petty Nobility possessing varying degrees of status, albeit, receiving a formal education would have normally been a distinction reserved only for the most affluent. Surely KoKo could grasp why an insult to one of her Lords had to be dealt with harshly! And if not, it was up to Louise to educate her.

"If Lady Sakuya and the other Leaders allow themselves to be openly insulted, they won't be taken seriously!" The youngest Valliere daughter explained, assuming a scholarly posture. "And of course, there's how it will hurt her standing with the rest of her Peers in the High Nobility, and also how it might become a problem in her family affairs if her honor is called into question without defense. How can she expect to marry if her reputation is tarnished by miscreants?"

"Marry?" KoKo tilted her head, bemusedly. "I think Sakuya-san has bigger things to worry about than her love life right now. Louise-chan, everything you're saying is true" KoKo admitted as she removed her apron. "But there are other things that Sakuya-san has to worry about as well. Remember, she's not really a Countess, she's the First Lord of Sylvain and serves by appointment."

Louise scowled. Again with the idea of that idiot system the Fae were so fond of. Of course Qualified people should naturally be allowed to voice their concerns and have a say in the running of things, but the idea of tallying the vote of _every_ commoner, or even just every Petty Mage was ludicrous! That wasn't any sort of rule except by means of the mob! A Commoner or Petty Mage wouldn't even know where to begin running a country.

No, there was a natural order to things. Those who displayed leadership and ability, those of good breeding, and those who were invested in the Kingdom through the ownership of land, should act on behalf of those beneath them. That way, the knowledge and wisdom possessed by the right people could benefit both Nobles and the Commoners.

"You Faeries might be able to make a system like that work." Louise said, yes very diplomatic! "But most of the Nobility won't see it that way. And it's going to be especially bad right now. This could be very compromising with the war!" Why, it could even be called treason! Though something held her back from saying that. Somehow, she didn't think KoKo would like it.

Her host set the plates aside, grinning painfully. "Yeah, that's definitely true. But that's exactly why Sakuya-san can't punish them." The Cait Syth Hunter removed her apron, stretching casually before she brought the plates over to a small table set on the balcony.

KoKo's home might have been small, but the view more than made up for it. Her apartment was located in the Northern district of Arrun, atop an elevated extension of the district that had been built directly on one of World Tree's adjacent roots, dozens of narrow rope bridges and a single larger stone edifice connected this section to the city hub, offering a magnificent view of Arrun's center as afternoon moved towards evening.

Not long ago, Louise had wondered how the Fae could be so unfazed by the grandeur of Tristania, now she knew. Arrun was incredible, beautiful, like something out of a dream. If was fitting really, given everything that KoKo had told her about ALfheim.

"What do you mean?" Louise shook her head. "If they spread dissent . . ."

"Yes, but silencing them will spread even _more_ dissent." KoKo explained gently. "Put yourself in our place Louise-chan. Do you think you would like it if your family wasn't allowed to voice its opinions at court?"

Louise crossed her arms. "Of course not, the Vallieres have been loyal servants of the Crown of Tristain, mother and father have earned the right to speak in public matters on behalf of our family interests."

"And that's exactly it." The Cait Syth held up a slim finger. "I think that for you Louise-chan, the right to speak is a privilege."

"Of course it's a privilege, otherwise people would abuse it!" Today's vandalism just underlined that point. "There have to be limits on such things."

"You're right that there need to be limits." KoKo agreed, finally growing a little testy. "What those vandals did was a completely inappropriate way to voice their opinions, and people will be giving them a lot of grief for it when they get caught. But," the Cait Syth plumped her chair cushion before sitting down, "They must feel strongly about it if they were willing to do something that risky."

Louise took her seat while Botan roused her little sister and led the sleepy girl to the table, sitting atop a folded handkerchief in front of their shared custard cup.

"We humbly thank Yggdrasil-sama and our gracious hosts for this feast." Shion said as she struggled to stay awake before commencing to nibble contentedly on a piece of Onion offered by her Sister.

"That's my point." Louise insisted, taking her first bite a little too soon and having to juggle the morsel of hot pork and mushrooms with her tongue. She grabbed the bottle of sweet tea KoKo had provided her and took a long gulp.

KoKo looked alarmed. "Are you okay Louise-chan?"

"F-fine, I'm fine!" Louise coughed. "I should have given it time to cool." She sat back in her chair. "Like I was saying, people who feel that strongly will only grow more bold if they aren't dealt with. They need to be punished for their own good and to set an example for responsible behavior!"

"I agree with Louise-chan, KoKo-san." Botan added in as she sat cross legged beside Shion. "In the Gardens, there is a time and a place to speak out. If everyone was arguing all the time, then nothing would ever get done." She paused before adding. "But that sort of thinking also caused us a lot of trouble, so maybe . . . I'm not so sure." She looked contemplatively at her sister.

Shion, deciding that the conversation had nothing to do with sweets, had turned her attention entirely to her meal.

KoKo nodded sympathetically as she carefully picked at her own plate. Unlike Louise, the Cait Syth made do with a pair of lacquered sticks to manipulate and pick up her food, delicately biting into a mushroom before answering.

"The problem is that they're resentful fro a lot of reasons, some of them good, some of them bad, and if Sakuya-san tries to prevent them from speaking, they'll be even more resentful. They weren't right to do what they did, Louise-chan, but Sakuya-san and the other Leaders wouldn't be right to silence them either, especially if other people share those sorts of sentiments."

"Do they?" Louise asked.

"Do who?"

"Other people." Louise clarified. "Do other people think like well . . . like that?" How horrid!

The drooping of her hostess' ears was all Louise really needed to know. "Well . . . I don't think most people would be as tasteless about it, but when you've got ears like mine, you hear a lot of things, _a lot_ of things, that people think they're saying in private." She put down her chopsticks. "A lot of people feel like the Faerie Lords, Sakuya-san and Mortimer-san especially, have done an amazing job."

"They have!" Louise agreed, from everything that she'd heard about the confusion caused by the Transition, and the role of the Fae Lords in keeping the peace. "For everything that they've done holding all of the Fae together, a native Tristanian would be immediately elevated to Knighthood!"

KoKo laughed in that nasally fashion that was common among the Caits. "Nyeh heh! I really can't imagine Alicia-san as a Knight." Her smile slowly faded again. "But that's not what everyone thinks. People around here are worried Louise-chan, they think Sakuya-san and the other Lords are overstepping their authority with this war, and with all of the negotiations they've been doing with Tristain. The treaty was okay, but sending supplies, money, and soldiers has got a lot of people up in arms."

"But aren't all the Faeries volunteers?" Louise asked, she'd heard that Lord Mortimer and General Gramont were being very discriminating in their recruitment. "How can anyone have a problem with that?"

KoKo sighed tiredly. "There are volunteers Louise-chan, and then there are _volunteers_. Sometimes people do things they really aren't prepared for because it seems like the right thing, or they don't really know what they're fighting for. Some people are scared that the Lords are going to lead us into danger because they aren't really qualified and have just gotten lucky. Remember, this was all supposed to be for fun, nobody elected Sakuya thinking that she would have to be a real ruler, even if she's done a good job so far."

Taking a sip from her own drink, KoKo looked out over the expanse of Arrun. "There are people who think they would be better qualified to run things, and also, there are people who are afraid that things will turn into a dictatorship. Sakuya-san and the other Leaders have most of the strongest fighters on their side and also all of the best weapons and equipment." She shook her head. "We're supposed to have an election to properly select and instate the Lords, but nobody knows when that's going to be, even Sakuya-san is being very vague which makes sense with the war . . . But lots of people won't see it that way. They don't think we should be led into a war by people who haven't been properly chosen."

Louise felt alarmed, then there were lots more people who thought like this?! Lady Sakuya must have known. "Then what's going to be done about it?" Lousie stood up from her chair, the sudden motion causing Shion to flutter her wings in surprise.

KoKo looked up in alarm. "For now, nothing." She gestured to calm Louise. "Yeah, what those vandals did was bad, but it was also really stupid and everyone can see that. There are lots of well thought out reasons why people are concerned, but this was just a petty attack, actually, it'll probably make Sakuya-san look more sympathetic."

Calming just a little, Louise began to understand. "But if it looks like Lady Sakuya is overreacting then it could make it look like the vandals have a point." Gyah! She was starting to think too much like a Faerie now!

KoKo nodded in sympathy. "There are lots of problems that way too, but it's probably for the best. I think Sakuya-san just wants people to forget about it as soon as possible. Stupid or not, it's pretty hurtful to do something like that to her right after her friend has died."

"The murder." Louise finished, it had been impossible not to hear word of it after getting to Arrun. She stiffened as a thought occurred to her. "Wait, is their a chance that this was done by the murderer?"

KoKo stopped in mid bite and tilted her head in thought. "Maybe . . . but I don't think so. The Arrun Tower incident seems too petty for a brutal murderer, you know? It was probably just some Trolls with a grudge who haven't gotten it through their thick heads that they can't act like they did when they were playing ALfheim. Anyways, this isn't really why you're here, right?"

Louise paused at the sudden change in topic before nodding hesitantly. "Right." She admitted. "Actually, I mostly came to give my report about the Pixies in the Capital, I thought it would help put the rest of the Gardens at ease."

"Mmm." KoKo mumbled and Louise wasn't sure if it was in reply or if she was simply savoring her food. "It sounds like you did that perfectly to me. Aside from Hina-chan's garden, the Pixies don't really trust us right now. It was a real hassle getting them all to listen and agree to send Shamans to talk to us."

Louise nodded. One thing that could be said about the Pixies was that they were more akin to very intelligent, self reliant children than they were to adult humans or Faeries. Gaining and keeping their trust wasn't going to be easy, but it was essential to keep the Pixies placated and also necessary to satisfy the Faerie Lords, especially the First Ladies of Freelia and Sylvain.

"Well, we haven't made as much progress as I would have hoped. We found some of the survivors, but others are still missing." And like Botan had said, every day that the Pixies were separated from their Elder siblings was another day they lived frightened and confused. "Really, we could use more help, but Henrietta doesn't have many people to spare right now."

After the disgraceful betrayal of the viscount of Wardes, only the most steadfast supporters of the crown were above suspicion. The whole Capital was under close observation at the moment, even the watchers had watchers. That left precious few qualified people who could be assigned to this important task.

"What about Kirche and Tabitha-chan? Aren't they still helping you?"

Louise finished another bite of her dinner before answering. "Of course they are! But that's still only three people, and we've had to investigate every lead. That's why I'm hoping this person we're looking into will be the last link."

"Hmm, more manpower . . ." KoKo trailed off, resting her elbows on the table. "Why don't I tag along to help out?"

"You would do that?" Louise felt strangely pleased by the idea. She exchanged a glance with Botan who gestured that she also favored the idea.

KoKo nodded, barring her fangs in a mischievous smile. "I've been flying all over Tristain hunting down Pixie nests, so I want to see this work out for the best."

The offer was tempting, it really was, KoKo was good at thinking on her feet, and it would mean having someone other than Tabitha who could cover a lot of ground. But . . .

"Wouldn't you stand out a little too much?" Louise blurted. As soon as the words left her lips, she was already kicking herself, that hadn't been diplomatic at all! "Sorry!"

"Neh?" KoKo started to chuckle again. "I have no idea what you'd be talking about." Her ears wagged in an accentuated fashion that Louise was almost certain had to be intentional. No fair! Louise began to blush which only caused KoKo to redouble her laughter. "It's alright Louise-chan," She chided gently, "But do you really think it will be a problem?" The Cait reached up to feel at her own ears. "There's some Faeries working in the Capital now, and lots more have visited. I wouldn't stand out too much, would I?"

Louise thought about some more. "Maybe not. If you can, help out, then we would really appreciate it."

"Great, then its settled! Which reminds me, when you finish up dinner, I have something for you."

"For me?" Louise asked, looking down at her nearly empty plate.

KoKo retreated back into her apartment to rummage around in the closet. A rattling of metal against metal came from inside the small room, prompting Louise to worry for her safety, but before Louise could call to ask if she was alright, KoKo returned clutching a large parcel, only a few scratches to mark her the worse for the ware.

Botan and Shion perked up curiously, both taking flight from the table to watch as the parcel was set down in front of Louise. KoKo watched expectantly. Not knowing what else to do, Louise plucked at the twine holding the box lid in place and carefully removed the cover.

What she found beneath was . . . it was . . . "It's beautiful!" Louise said as she carefully lifted the cloak from its box, examining the craftsmanship with fascination. The fabric felt almost like supple leather and was dyed a deep violet, the only adornment was a small, unmarked, brass clasp at the throat. "This is for me?" She asked.

"Un." KoKo said, lacing her fingers together. "Remember, I said we were going to get you a real Last Attack Drop for helping us take out Lhamthanc."

Louise blanched as she realized what KoKo was telling her. This was made from that monster's hide! It wasn't _just _beautiful cloak, it was a trophy of her victory. "Thank you. Thank you so much KoKo."

"We all chipped in." KoKo said. "So it's a thanks from all of us. Gaius was so stingy!" She added under her breath. "Here, let me help you try it on."

There was a mirror in one corner of KoKo's apartment, standing in front of it while KoKo threw the cloak around her shoulders, Louise Turned around to view herself from all sides.

"How do I look?" She asked.

"It's pretty!" Shion blurted out, receiving a gentle prod from her sister for speaking out of turn. "Sorry."

"She's right." Botan decided.

KoKo leaned back, appraising Louise from every angle like a sculptor deciding how to finish a piece. "I think it suits you perfectly."

Louise looked back to the mirror, she was pleased with the way that the garment hung from her slight frame, though she noticed curiously that it was a little too long.

"It's so that you can grow into it." KoKo explained. "I thought it looked like you had a few more centimeters to go." Louise privately hoped that was true.

Replacing the cloak in its box, they returned to the patio, Louise watching the sun set beside KoKo, Botan, and Shion as they finished their drinks.

Finally, as the darkness began to set in, Louise was treated to something she had never seen before. The fading sunlight was seen off by a slowly spreading glow, lights all across the city beginning to come alive, much too brilliant to be torches, and if they were mage conjured lights, it would have had to have been the work of every Faerie in Arrun. The city glowed like a stunning island of gold, reflected light basking off the side of the World Tree.

Louise decided then and there that she was never going to taken offense if a Faerie wasn't impressed by Tristania ever again.

They talked some more about nothing in particular, KoKo asking her about her days, how she was doing. She wanted to know how Louise was getting on with her studies while she was spending so much time in the Capital. That hadn't been difficult, Professor Colbert had been happy to forward Louise's assignments to her while she stayed at the palace. So long as she continued to maintain her current tutoring regimen, her professors saw no reason why she couldn't study elsewhere.

Darkly, she though that they were also quietly happy to have her practicing someplace that _wasn't_ the academy.

KoKo insisted that this couldn't be the case, and even though Louise didn't believe her, it still felt nice. The only other person who made Louise feel good about herself like that was Cattleya. She realized, that was what it was, the point of similarity between the two otherwise very different people.

Finally as the darkness settled completely, there had been a knock at the apartment door, one of Henrietta's Manticore Knight guards sent to check up on Louise.

"You can tell the Princess that I'm doing quite alright this evening." Louise assured the guard. "And that she needn't bother to include me in tonight's diversions."

"Of course, Miss Valliere." The Knight gave a small bow before departing, leaving Louise once again alone with her hostess and two Pixie charges.

She hadn't really intended to stay the whole night, at least, that was what she kept telling herself, but they kept talking, exchanging stories.

The cork board covered in small portraits that was hung in KoKo's kitchen became an object of endless discussion. The pictures were from all over ALfheim and that other world, all of them strange and different. There was an unspoken agreement between them that Louise could ask about any of the pictures of ALfheim, but not of that second world. Her eyes naturally drifted to the pictures of a small boy that took up almost a third of the entire surface.

Afterwords, KoKo showed her how to play some of the games from her own homeland, including one involving a set of cards like those used for playing Crowns or King's Gambit but composed of nothing but elegant wood prints of various flowers and scenes.

Soft cries of 'Come On' carried on the wind well into the evening by which time Louise had realized it really was too late to return to the Governor's Mansion for anyone lacking wings.

This had seemed like a problem, there was only a single narrow bed in the apartment, but KoKo had bee unfazed, retrieving a second rolled up mattress from from her closet and laying it out on the floor, offering Louise her bed for the night. Botan and Shion were thankfully easy enough to accommodate using the drawer of KoKo's nightstand and a pair of handkerchiefs as blankets.

Louise stared up at the ceiling as she listened to the soft sounds. Of pixie wings rustling, of KoKo's breathing, of her own heartbeat. Tomorrow she would return to the Capital, with KoKo's help and the aid of the archived they'd have no trouble finding the remaining Pixies, she was sure. Turning her head, she watched as Shion slept in her sister's arms. They would find them, and send them all back to where they belonged.

On the floor beneath her, the steady sound of breathing shifted faintly, growing tight and labored.

"KoKo?" Louise asked, looking down from the bed, but the Faerie couldn't hear her."

Putting the Pixies back where they belonged was a good start. As for the rest, it sounded like that was going to be a lot harder. Louise reached down hesitantly to take KoKo's hand in her own. The skin was warm to the touch, and dry, the palms faintly rough and calloused. She didn't know if it really helped, but slowly, the lost mother's breathing eased and her head rested heavily against her pillow.

Louise yawned one last time as she felt her own eyes growing heavy. "Goodnight, KoKo."


	5. Pixie Tech Support

Authors Note: And now I can't stop imagining that Hinagiku sounds like Bridget Hoffman.

Halkegenia Online v2.0 – Chapter 3

Yui, Kirigaya Yui, former Mental Health Councilor Prototype in the game world of SAO, an AI, and now a very real young girl in the world of Halkegenia, grimaced with concentration as she sat atop a pile of pillows in the parlor of the home she shared with her Mama, Papa, and Aunt Suguha.

The object of her meditation was a small, silvered card that was just a little too big for her to get her hand around comfortably. Annoyingly she had experienced as little success today as she had any time in the past six and a half weeks. Logically, she had no reason to expect that things would be easier this time, but she had at least hoped to invoke a response. Still, every Interrogation of the GM access card returned nothing but random data, or so it appeared.

"Maybe you should rest Yui-san." A sweetly honeyed voice said from beside her.

Yui allowed herself to relax, putting the GM card down before turning her attention to the Pixie Shaman seated atop the coffee table.

"It's alright, one hundred thousand milliseconds isn't that long at all!" Yui assured Hinagiku, but the Shaman remained unconvinced.

"It might not seem that way." Hinagiku warned, flitting up from her place on the table. "But even Shamans rest often when we commune with Yggdrasil-sama. You certainly shouldn't push yourself to exhaustion when you don't even know what you're trying to accomplish." Her eyes naturally fell to the card beneath Yui's hand.

It had not originally been Yui's intention to ask for Hinagiku's help. In fact, when she had learned that the Tarbes Pixies were in Arrun, she had only ever meant to introduce her new friends to her Mama.

Meeting Hinagiku, Kigiku, and Ajisai had seemed like a pleasant diversion for Mama while she continued to recuperate. And the sooner she helped Mama, the sooner she could help Papa. Privately, Yui knew that Papa needed almost as much care, but that his own Healing Process would require seeing the results of Mama's recovery first.

The Pixies were practically Walking Therapy in their own right, non threatening, childish, and inquisitive. She was sure that Mama would take an immediate liking to them. And the more that she relaxed, the more Yui could probe at some of the more sensitive Traumas that she was still carrying.

Meeting with Hinagiku and the others had begun mostly as Yui had expected. The Pixies were being lodged within several spare rooms at the Governor's Mansion, a huge space for just the Shamans and their Knight escorts, but hardly anything at all to their Faerie hosts.

The Sylph and Cait Syth Guards at the mansion had let Yui and her Mama in immediately. Almost all of Sakuya Ojisan's staff knew her by now and they had been greeted with warm welcomes as they walked the halls.

That was where things had first started to err from her predictions.

The very first Pixies they had seen had been a trio of Vespid Knights standing guard from the vantage of a wall mounted lamp fixture. The Knights had come to attention the instant Yui and Asuna had rounded the corner. Yui didn't recognize any of them, which meant they were probably from one of the other Gardens that had been discovered after Lady Sakuya had ordered a search of Tristain.

As they grew nearer however, the trio of Knights had become suspicious and then openly guarded, two drawing their swords while the third retreated back down the hall and slipped beneath a doorway.

"Halt!" The Lead Knight ordered as she held her sword at the ready. "Identify yourself!"

Neither Yui nor her Mama knew quite how to respond. "I'm Yui and . . ."

"Not you." The Knight said, her eyes had never left Mama. "You, identify yourself at once!"

Asuna's confusion redoubled as she gestured to herself non threateningly. "My name is Asuna. Yui-chan and I are here to see the Shaman Hinagiku."

"The Tarbes Garden Leader." The second of the two Knights observed.

The first shook her head. "You don't smell like the others . . ."

Mama blinked in surprise. "Smell?"

"You're not right at all, not a like a Sylph, or a Salamander, not like a being either . . . I know this smell . . ."

The comment about her Scent must have been Embarrassing for Mama, her face grew faintly red, and she lifted her wrist to her nose as if trying to identify what the Pixie was talking about.

"They're not trying to be rude, Mama." Yui explained, pleased to show off what she had learned all by herself. "The Pixies have a very acute sense of smell, so they can identify humans and Faeries just by scent." The Knight must have been put on edge by Mama's unique scent as a Maeve type Faerie.

After accepting that this had to be the case, Asuna waited patiently with Yui for the third Knight to return with several more Shamans and Vespid Knights. Thankfully, one of them was Hinagiku.

"Yui-san?" The Priestess had questioned, flying out to meet her with a warm smile. She had stopped half way to Yui as if she had run into a glass wall. Her head spun about as she sniffed at the air curiously. Her attention came to rest entirely on Mama.

A dozen pairs of Pixie eyes watched Asuna expectantly. By now, Mama was growing a little Nervous being the center of so much attention, smiling uncertainly at all of the strange looks.

"Yui-san." Hinagiku looked between Yui and her Mama. "Who is this person?"

Yui answered quickly, eager to prevent a Confrontation. "This is my Mama, remember, I told you about her."

"Asuna?" Hinagiku whispered to herself and then looked to Asuna. "This is most strange." The Priestess raised a hand, gesturing for the Knights to lower their weapons. "Please, this person is no threat."

The Pixie Shaman settled on Yui's shoulder to show her faith in this judgment. "Yui-san had told me a great deal about you. I'm very sorry for all of this. Your scent is strangely familiar and put the Knights ill at ease, they wanted to be sure it was safe."

"Familiar?" Asuna tilted her head. "I'm sure I've never met any Pixies before."

Not entirely true. Yui thought, Mama had met Suisen, Argo's Navigation Pixie, and Yui herself still technically counted.

"I shouldn't think it would matter." Hinagiku concluded. "I'm certain this scent is something that every one of my Sisters was born knowing. But I can't say for certain why." She shook her head, warm smile returning. "In any case, it's obvious that we have nothing to fear. Sisters, please stand down, these two mean us no harm. Yui-san is a close friend."

The others looked doubtful but were unwilling to speak out against a Shaman, and at Hinagiku's continued Gentle Urging began to stand down. The last straw had been the casual greetings exchanged between Mama and a pair of Lady Sakuya's staff who appeared totally unaware of the miniature standoff.

Realizing that neither their revered Eldest Sister nor their hosts thought anything amiss, the remaining Knights had sheepishly re-sheathed their blades, looking about like children who had jumped to conclusions.

"Again, I beg pardon for my Sisters." Hinagiku bowed apologetically. "They are simply very protective, and more than a little nervous. Lady Sakuya has been a most gracious host, but this place is still very strange for us."

"No no, there's no need to apologize." Mama dipped her head back to the small priestess. "There was no harm done. Maybe we should start over."

"Start over?" Hinagiku asked.

"How do you do, my name is Asuna. I'm Yui's mother." Mama waited patiently for Hinagiku to follow suit.

"How do you do." Hinagiku bowed once more. "I am Hinagiku, Shaman and Eldest Sister of Tarbes Garden."

"It's my pleasure to meet you Hinagiku-san." Yui felt Relieved as Mama extended her hand and Hinagiku accepted the offer, gingerly setting down in Mama's palm.

"Likewise, Asuna-san." The Shaman answered before returning her attention to Yui. "Yui-san, Kigiku and Ajisai are also here if you wish to see them. I'm sure they would both want see that you're doing well."

"That would be great!" Yui smiled genuinely. When last she'd seen them, Ajisai had still been regrowing her damaged wings and had only barely regained her ability to fly. She still wanted to properly thank the two Knights for risking their lives to help Antoine and Euphrasie.

Hinagiku made to lead them back towards the room set aside for the Pixies and then seemed to think better of it.

"Actually, forgive me for saying this, but I worry that some of my sisters might grow anxious if you come inside. Most aren't used to being around Faeries or Beings just yet, and with your scent . . . But I would like to visit if possible . . ." She bit her lip. "Perhaps I could ask to use one of the other rooms, or go outside, the gardens here are quite lovely . . ."

That was when Mama had gently pressed her index fingers down on Hinagiku's shoulders to draw the Shaman's attention. "If it's not too much trouble, we'd be happy to host you at our home for lunch."

The Shamans eyes went wide and she began to gesticulate wildly. "N-no! I mean, that is very generous, but it shouldn't be necessary at all. We are guests in your city and shouldn't seek to inconvenience . . ."

"I insist." Mama said. "Yui-chan would like it as well. Isn't that right, Yui-chan?"

"Un." Yui nodded. "Please consider it Hinagiku-san." Then she thought to add. "Mama's a really good cook, and we just picked up some honey at the market yesterday . . ."

"H-honey?" The Shaman grew intensely thoughtful. "I really shouldn't . . ." She mumbled softly. "Well . . . We don't have anything planned this afternoon. The other Shamans are preparing for a ceremony this evening. It's a rare opportunity to stand beneath Yggdrasil-sama's branches."

"Then, if you would like, you and your sisters are welcome in our home." Asuna said encouragingly.

"Of course, thank you." Hinagiku bowed again.

It hadn't taken long for arrangements to be made. The Pixies were being treated as special guests at Lady Sakuya's orders and were free to go wherever they liked. After collecting her Sisters, Hinagiku, Kigiku, and Ajisai had seated themselves on Yui's shoulders for the walk home, the three Pixies looking all about the city streets like Tourists fascinated by the sights and sounds.

Now and then, Ajisai or Hinagiku would point and say something to one another. Meanwhile, Kigiku struggled to remain composed and serious, but the Facade wasn't perfect, and Yui caught the small Knight drooling openly at the scent of baked apples as they passed a bistro just off of the main street.

Yui came to a stop at the doorstep of the Kirigaya residence, Hinagiku and Kigiku drifting down beside her. Ajisai and Kigiku looked up at the front facade while Hinagiku admired and complimented Mama on some of the herbs that she had started growing in the flower boxes by the front steps. The Shaman's discomfort from earlier had all but vanished. That was, until the diminutive spiritualist had crossed the threshold of the Kirigaya residence for the first time.

Almost immediately, Hinagiku had grown anxious, as if she had sensed something out of place and even her Vespid Knight escorts had become distracted entering an almost trance like state. The closest analogy that Yui could devise was that it was akin to the way that some animals were known to sense imminent natural disasters.

It had not taken long to isolate the source of the Phenomena that had placed the Shaman on edge. Hinagiku had homed in on the source with unerring certainty until, standing before the small jewelry box in Yui's room, she had demanded that Yui reveal its contents.

For Yui who had already developed a strong model of Hinagiku and her Typical Behavior it had been a shocking experience to face the forceful side of the normally mellow Pixie's personality. The surprise had caused her to obey almost without thinking.

What had transpired next could best be related to a Religious Epiphany. Hinagiku had looked at the card from all sides as if she couldn't quite see it clearly, and then cautiously, reverently, she'd placed one hand atop its flat, geometric surface. She'd recoiled almost at once, her biorhythms spiking far in excess of even Sayuri at her worst before pulse and respiration had both plummeted back within their normal range.

"Hina!" Yui had shouted, taking her friend up in her hands and holding the shivering Pixie close to her chest. Even with Mama close by, Kigiku and Ajisai had drawn their swords as if they could protect their leader from whatever had happened.

Thankfully, Hinagiku hadn't been harmed by the experience, though she showed symptoms that Yui could best describe as intense euphoria for approximately thirty seconds after physically contacting the GM card followed by several minutes of dazed confusion that had only subsided after she had been taken outside to catch her breath.

Once the Shaman had calmed herself and her agitated sisters, she had apologized to Yui and Asuna for her brash behavior.

"I over stepped my bounds, Asuna-san, Yui-san, I have been a most ungracious guest." The Pixie Leader begged for forgiveness. "Please accept my sincere apologies."

Hypothesis The Pixies were intensely sensitive to the GM card. Query Did the card actively broadcast to the Pixies? Query Was this a result of the card's status as a magic artifact? Query What did this imply?

Yui hadn't thought there was anything to forgive, but in the end, it was up to Mama to decide. Yui looked to her mother, waiting for her answer. Thankfully, Mama's disposition towards the Pixies was exactly as Yui had predicted.

"It's alright Hina-chan." Asuna offered gently, offering her hand to the Pixie. "I'm more worried about what happened to you. Are you sure you're alright?"

Hinagiku fidgeted nervously. "I . . . Yes . . . I'm alright. I was concerned to sense something here is all . . ."

"Sense?" Asuna asked.

"That . . . relic in Yui-san's possession." The Shaman explained as she regained her composure. "I've never seen anything like it before, and . . . it sung with Yggdrasil-sama's song, like the Shoot near our Garden."

Yui's eyes widened at once. Query Could Hinagiku interpret data from the GM card? Conclusion This could be invaluable if Hinagiku could identify patterns and filter whatever Noise was interfering with Yui's own attempts to interact with Cardinal. If the Shaman could even pick out key patterns from the noise then she could serve as a sort of Rosetta Stone to backwards engineer Cardinal's data packets.

"Hina-chan?" Yui asked hesitantly. "Can you understand the GM card?"

Asuna shared a look of alarm with the two Vespid Knights. "Yui-chan?"

Hinagiku shook her head as if trying to clear her mind. "Yui-san, how did you come to possess such a thing?"

"Please Hina," Yui clasped her hands before her, "If you could off any help, it's very important I learn more about that card!"

The GM Card that had been Mama's message in a bottle to Yui and her Papa during while imprisoned at the top of the World Tree, had been entrusted to her by Papa and the Faerie Lords in order to unlock its secrets. It was an important task that could only be entrusted to her.

As the only person among the Fae with the ability to communicate to any extent with Cardinal, and thus potentially the GM consoles, it had fallen on Yui to decipher the coding of the GM card, and by extension, Cardinal itself. But her every attempt had been frustrated by her own limitations. No matter how hard she tried, she simply couldn't make sense of data being returned by her queries.

Yui wasn't normally one to grow impatient, but this was becoming almost Intolerable!. There were times when she had risen from her examinations of the card and simply wanted to throw it at the wall or yell at the top of her lungs until all the built up frustration inside of her was used up. She wanted to run around, to act, to shout. She felt like she was close, but no matter how hard she tried, the answers evaded her.

Even worse was the very idea that she could feel that way at all. Before, Yui could have simply Accepted her limitations and moved on, if she couldn't crack the Card, she would have apologized and that would have been the end of it. But now, she kept coming back to it, even though she knew it was useless, even though she hadn't thought of anything new.

It Frightened Yui that there was some part of herself that she couldn't examine and quantify precisely, that rebelled against her normally logical and methodical analysis. It felt Wrong, like something fundamentally alien crawling its way inside of her Primary Logic Cluster.

She'd spent almost as much time running self diagnostics as she had examining the card, and again, Frustratingly she'd made no progress. The need to find answers to one simply spurred her to find answers to the other.

But now, a Lead was sitting right in front of her and more than anything, Yui desperately wanted Hinagiku to agree.

The Shaman breathed softly. "Yui-san, that thing is _not_ for Pixies."

"Hina?" Kigiku settled onto the wood deck of the back patio, coming to stand beside her Sister as she continued to recover.

Hinagiku smiled reassuringly. "It's alright Kigiku. Whatever it is, it wasn't trying to hurt me, it was just overwhelming, I guess . . . like Lightning perhaps?" The Shaman grew contemplative as she tried to explain what she had experienced.

"This is a first." Ajisai muttered, getting Yui and Asuna's attention. "I've never heard Hinagiku-sama being so vague."

"I wouldn't be vague if I had the words for it." Hinagiku rose slowly back into the air. She paused to look Yui in the eye. "Yui-san, this thing, it is important that you learn to commune with it, why?"

Query Should she tell her? Yui wondered. The Card had been entrusted to her in secret, and she really didn't have Permission to spread information about it. But Hina had found it all on her own and probably had some idea of what it was. It would be worse now if she lied or omitted something, especially if Hinagiku told the other Shamans.

Her Mama gave her a small nod. "I'll tell Sakuya-san and the others that I said it was okay. You don't have to worry, Yui-chan."

"Un." Yui looked back to the Shaman. "I think that card will allow us to communicate with Cardinal, with Yggradsil-sama, again and maybe help us find a way home." Though that was only conjecture, and what the consequences of that be were beyond Yui's ability to predict.

The response from the Pixies was considerably more Sedated than Yui had expected. The small Fae looked back and forth between one another. Kigiku and Ajisai didn't have much to add, both Knights preferring to defer to their Eldest Sister and Spiritual Leader.

Hinagiku looked troubled, eyes closed as she began to pace the patio. "What you're asking is . . . difficult Yui-san. Very difficult."

"You said the GM Card wasn't meant for Pixies." Asuna asked. "Then, is it safe for Yui-chan to be near such a thing?"

The Shaman looked thoughtfully up at Asuna and smiled. "We are very sensitive to Yggdrasil-sama and her song, but I don't think it will do Yui-san any harm. It was simply very overpowering for me is all." She began to tug thoughtfully at a few loose locks of hair, muttering to herself. "To commune with Yggdrasil-sama . . . maybe . . . maybe this is . . ."

Yui waited patiently for her answer.

"I think . . . that this is acceptable." Hinagiku decided. "If Yui-san wishes, and if Asuna-san is willing to permit it. I would be happy to help."

Yui brightened at once. "Really?!"

"Mm." The Shaman smiled. "Despite everything, I still consider you to be one of my Sisters Yui-san. I could hardly consider myself a Shaman if I refused to offer Guidance."

"Mama?" Yui looked up at her mother.

Asuna looked pained and Yui could almost sense the conflict as she decided whether to accept or refuse. She knew that her mother was just worrying for her and wanted her to be safe. But what would she do if Mama said no? She would listen of course, but she still wanted to try. She looked on Pleadingly hoping that Mama would understand.

Asuna sighed. "I'll allow it, but only if Yui-chan promises to be extra careful. And you too Hinagiku-san."

Mama still didn't look too happy as she helped Yui set up in the parlor and left her with Hinagiku, the two settling in for what had turned into an all afternoon session.

About halfway through the day, just as Yui was taking her break, there had been a knock at the door. Standing up, she rubbed at her sore posterior as she went to answer.

A Faerie Woman with short cropped brown hair and green eyes stood on the other side of the doorway in a bright green sweater and dark slacks. A bag hung in one hand while a sword in a shiny new scabbard was held in the other.

"Good afternoon Caramella-san." Yui greeted politely, just like Mama had taught her.

"How's it going Yui-chan?" Caramella grinned as she stood with her hands on knees so she could meet Yui at her own eye level. "Is your Mom around?"

"Un." Yui nodded and took the Faerie woman's arm. "She's making lunch right now. Did you come to eat with us?"

"I really only meant to drop by for tea." Caramella said as she kicked off her shoes at the front door. Her nose twitched as she caught the first faint whiff heralding Mama's cooking. "But maybe I'll change my plans."

Caramella had been coming by fairly often over the past two weeks to check up on Mama, usually bringing some new ingredient from the market or else just dropping by to Chat. Mama seemed to really like it when Caramella came by, and Papa got along well with her too, so naturally, Yui had taken a liking to her as well.

Caramella treated her like a real Younger Sibling and had even gone with her and Mama to see the children at Arrun Home. It didn't hurt that Caramella also didn't show any Interest in Papa either, which meant Yui could rest easy knowing that there was no chance of Infidelity.

"Oh, Caramella!" Asuna poked her head out of the kitchen. "I was expecting you a little later. Why don't you sit on the back porch with our other guests. I'll have lunch done in just a little bit and Kirito-kun should be back soon."

"Other guests?" Caramella glanced back to the entry and then almost jumped out of her skin as she turned back around and was met by a hovering Hinagiku. "Jesus!"

"How do you do." The Pixie curtsied in mid flight. "I am Hinagiku, a Shaman of the Garden of Tarbes. You must be Miss Caramella. It is an honor to make your acquaintance."

"Uh, yeah, likewise." Caramella nodded sheepishly. "So you're Asuna-san's guest?"

"Yes. Myself and my sisters. Asuna-san has been a most gracious host." Hinagiku replied. "And she has told me a great deal about you Miss Caramella, though . . . I confess I'm at a loss."

"Okay. About what?" Caramella asked.

Hinagiku fidgeted and wrung her hands apologetically. "I thought I was well versed in all of the Fae Tribes, but not yours. Are you perhaps kin to Asuna-san?"

"My Tribe?" Caramella grinned. "I'm just me."

This answer didn't seem to sit well with Hinagiku at all, but the minute Priestess didn't try to press the matter either.

Asuna emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of nuts that she had baked in honey as a special treat and urging them all to follow her out back. The scent made Hinagiku drool in a very un-Shaman-like fashion before drifting after Yui and a curious Caramella.

"You're not with Kino today." Asuna noted as she set the tray down on the patio table.

Caramella's grin widened as she took an offered seat and plucked up a few of the nuts. "I would be. Except Kino has been making _googly_ eyes at that cat girl for the last week. You know he begged her to help him with his wing work?"

Asuna scowled. "You better not be teasing him about that." She warned.

Yui nodded thoughtfully to herself. Kino-san was another of Mama's new friends. Actually, he reminded Yui a little bit of her Papa in some ways. Good ways, and bad ways. Which was why she was happy to see him open[ing up to people his own age now that he had the chance.

"I'm not!" Caramella raised her hands. "Actually, I'm rooting for him, Silica-chan is a real cutey."

Instead of softening her tone, Asuna's eyes drooped, "Then you better not be giving him advice that's too forward."

"Never." The elder swordswoman said neutrally. "Kino's a good kid, and I'll keep him that way." She looked over to the two Knights who were now nibbling contentedly on their own snacks. "Us girls have to keep guys in line, huh."

Ajisai set her own nut down. "Guys?"

"You know, boys." Caramella elaborated. "They get themselves into a lot of trouble."

Ajisai looked on with complete incomprehension. Yui was Tempted to explain but she wanted to see how the Misunderstanding would resolve itself.

"She means males." Hinagiku elaborated for her sister. "You know, like Dagger Dogs."

"Oh." Ajisai absorbed this revelation and then very suddenly shook her head. "We don't have those."

The normally outspoken swordswoman was given pause. "Excuse me?"

"No guys." Ajisai confirmed.

"Caramella-chan, you did read about them, right?" Mama raised a hand to hide her smile. "They're born fully grown from flowers in their Gardens. Like Thumbalina."

"Ajisai and Asuna-san are telling the truth." Hinagiku said calmly as she selected a honeyed nut from the tray and found a seat beneath the shade offered by a vase. "Yggdrasil-sama created us without the need for Gender. When the Light Faeries created the lesser Fae tribes from our errant Sisters, they recreated half in the image of King Oberon and half in the Image of Queen Titania so that they might go forth and multiply across the lands."

Yui didn't miss the way that her Mama blanched at mention of the Faerie King and Queen. It was very Suspicious, she suspected she would have to ask her about it later. The only other person who seemed to know was Caramella who grinned mischievously.

"Go forth and multiply huh? Sounds like this 'Faerie Queen' was sort of kinky."

"Caramella!" Mama said dangerously.

"Oh no doubt!" Ajisai cut in. "I can't imagine what that has to be like, but it's probably really gross and uncomfortable to have to mate and get all fat like a bitch while babies grown inside your body . . ." The Vespid Knights eyes widened as she remembered who she was speaking to. She began to wave her arms furiously."I mean . . . It's perfectly natural for Faeries and stuff, just not for Pixies!"

Caramella ignored the apology, curiously, Yui noted a slight spike in Caramella's outer body temperature. Capillary dilation was consisted with embarrassment but she didn't seem to be displaying any of the normal social cues. The swordswoman gave a small, shrill, squeek.

"So . . . No guys." Caramella mimicked.

"No guys." Ajisai agreed again.

Yui expected this to be the end of it.

"But you have boobs!" The swordswoman emphasized her observation by pointing to Ajisai's chest. Reassesment, Yui blinked rapidly as she corrected her Aberant Social Model, Caramella certainly had an interesting way of thinking.

The response from all three Pixies was as violent as it was sudden. As one, all three girls crossed their arms over their chests, faces turning bright red. "Caramella-san!" Hinagiku stuttered. "You're not supposed to draw attention to them. It's improper!"

Yui tilted her head, wondering if this was some remnant of the Ethics Code that was still in effect within the Pixie psyche.

Caramella raised her hands again. "Sorry, sorry! It just seems like, well, it's just kind of weird is all. I mean, mammals have mamaries to feed their babies. So why do Pixies need them?"

"It's just a natural part of Blossoming." Hinagiku said as she tugged delicately at the collar of her robes. "Yes, just natural. Perfectly natural!"

"Uh-huh." Caramella sounded unconvinced.

"Well then, now that we have that cleared up." Asuna got up from her chair. "I'm going to go get lunch ready. You're welcome to stay too Caramella-san."

Caramella gave a small wave of acknowledgment as she returned to watching Kigiku and Ajisai, the Pixies watching back.

It wasn't long before Yui heard the front door opening and two pairs of shoes being kicked off. She perked up almost instantly, scooting for her own chair and rushing inside to greet her Papa. Papa picked her up and spun her about once before setting her down.

"Hello, Yui-chan. You look even happier than usual. Tis a special occasion I presume?" Argo asked as she slipped past Kirito.

"Un. We have some guests over. Come on Papa, I want you to meet my friends!" Yui tugged at her Papa's hand, leading him towards the patio as Mama stepped out of the kitchen with a tray of sandwiches.

Papa's eyes widened at the sight, and then got wider still as he saw the smell white jar taking up the place of pride in the middle of the tray. "Is that . . . ?"

Mama smiled slyly. "Uh huh. I think I've got it close enough this time."

Papa all but salivated as he looked over his soon to be eaten lunch, one hand rising to hover over a particularly artfully filled roll.

"Not so fast, Kirito-kun!" Mama said, all humor suddenly gone from her voice and expression. "Before that, I have some question for you and Argo."

"R-Really?" Papa stumbled awkwardly. Yui noted that Argo had managed to vanish from the inside of the house, Yui couldn't even detect the Cait Syth with her expanded senses.

"Yes, really." Asuna confirmed. "Starting with just what you've been doing for the Faerie Lords since yesterday."

Papa swallowed, looking suddenly like he wanted to Be Someplace Else. Mama leaned a little closer, ruthelessly extending the sandwich tray so that Papa could get a good whiff of the herbs she'd used.

Papa's final line of defenses gave way. Shoulders sagging beneath his coat, he sighed. "Could you put the sandwiches down first . . . you might drop them when I tell you."

Yui decided that this was an important lesson. No matter how strong he was, Papa could never beat Mama.


	6. Interlude Interrupted

Halkegenia Online - Chapter 3 - Part 2

Returning to Royal Palace after their brief visit to the home of the Faeries, Louise and Botan had been dismayed to discover that their query of the Royal Archives had yet to bear fruit.

In Louise's opinion this was nothing less than a shameful failing of whatever low ranking Noble had been assigned to the task. She had shown her credentials as an Agent of Her Majesty's Will when she had lodged the request with the Palace, so she should have had the highest priority and utmost cooperation of the scribes and clerks that managed the tax offices.

Only through those records could they hope to discover the whereabouts of the man named Terrance de'Martou in any sort of timely fashion.

She had apologized profusely to KoKo, bowing over and over again. The Cait Syth had come all this way to help and now it looked like Louise was just wasting her time.

"T-this is inexcusable!" The youngest Valliere daughter stammered, glaring to the clerk who had given her the bad news.

"It's okay Louise, these things happen." KoKo waved a hand, smiling all the while.

"Louise-san is right!" Botan's wings fluttered as she stood atop her partner's shoulder. "Every day that we lose here is another day that my Sisters are left alone."

"Right, right." KoKo nodded, the mellowness leaving her voice, and with it, the good humor from her eyes. The she knew just as well as Louise what was at stake. "But is it really weird for it to take this long?" Her tail twisted to and fro as she speculated aloud. "I'd think there would be some sort of organizational method."

"Actually, that is the matter at hand." The clerk spoke, gathering the attention of all three investigators. "Your query was seen to promptly Miss Valliere, but the records you requested are currently being held in their entirety by a third party. I fear that they cannot be released at this time because they simply are not in the possession of the Royal Archives."

"What?!" Louise knew, just knew, that her shout must have broken windows somewhere in the Palace. Not in their possession? The records weren't lost or misplaced, they were missing out right!

"As an appointed Agent in the service of the Crown of Tristain, and a daughter of the Valliere family, I demand to know the meaning of this!" Louise ordered.

Relations with the Pixies had piqued Mother and Father's interest after a Garden had been discovered on the edge of the Valliere lands. When Louise had last spoken with Mother on the matter of her mission, the Valliere Matriarch had given her permission to use their family name and status to tactfully leverage the cooperation of any troublesome Nobles.

Louise concealed a smug smile. Acting with the full authority of the Valliere family and a mandate from the Crown, there were few doors that would be closed to her.

The clerk hesitated before apologizing once more. "I beg your Pardon Miss Valliere, but we were ordered not to disclose the business or identity of the person who is holding those records." He then added carefully. "I assure you that they are acting with the fullest faith and authority of the Crown." In other words, he was covering his own posterior in these paranoid times.

Louise stared at the Clerk, trying to comprehend what she'd just been told. Certainly there were people entrusted by the Crown with much greater responsibilities than her own. But the thought that she might cross paths with one of these people, much less in the midst of her own investigation, had never occurred to her.

"I see." Was that all she could say?

"Louise-san." Botan tugged at her hair for her attention. "What are we supposed to do now?"

Louise bit her lip. If brute force didn't work, Louise wasn't above humility in the face of a superior. Nodding her head respectfully, Louise crafted her reply. "Then, if it is at all possible to contact this person, could I please beg their audience. It should be known that the documents in their possession are essential for my own work."

"Very good, Miss Valliere." The man said, looking relieved to have seen the situation diffused. "I will relay your message and any reply at once."

"Thank you." Louise said courteously before turning on her heel and making her way back down the hall in the most stately fashion she could manage. KoKo quickly falling in behind her.

The Cait Syth placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry things haven't worked out smoothly Louise-chan."

Louise shrugged loose. "Don't be." Truthfully, she felt like she was the one who had to apologize. Even if it was through no fault of her own, she'd stumbled in front of KoKo. It was almost, no, it was just as embarrassing as letting Cattleya or her mother see her fail.

She stole a look at the Faerie woman from the corner of her eye. KoKo's expression remained serene, but the Cait couldn't hide her body language quite as easily. Her tail was stiff, and held up in a fashion Louise had only seen once in Tarbes while they had investigated the burned Garden, and her ears were not quite as high as the were when she was genuinely at ease.

Louise frowned, when had she gotten so good at reading KoKo?

"So." KoKo said at last. "What now?"

Louise frowned, what now indeed. "I think . . . I think we need to wait." She held her breath for what she knew was coming.

"Wait?" Botan pulled hard at Louise's hair. "We've been doing nothing but waiting. I'm sick of waiting!"

"Unless you want to walk the entire city asking random people if they know a man named Terrance de'Martou." Louise replied.

Botan seemed to seriously consider this proposition before her wings drooped slowly. "That was sarcasm, wasn't it?"

Louise nodded sympathetically. She hated seeing the Pixie look so dejected.

"Actually, that reminds me." KoKo raised her right hand as if to ask a question. "Tristania has town criers and places where you can post news and stuff, right?"

'And stuff?' Louise wondered and then shook her head. "Right. You Faeries did something similar in Arrun if I recall." The Faeries didn't use criers very much, instead relying on large 'Message Boards' which Louise supposed made sense when everyone was literate.

"Yep." KoKo agreed. "Works pretty good too. So what I'm wandering is, since your working for the Government, couldn't you post a request for anyone with information about this de'Martou person to come forward?"

Botan perked up at this. "Yeah, that's right! Couldn't we do that?"

"We could." Louise agreed thoughtfully. It hadn't occurred to her before because it would be an awful lot of effort when they had been making satisfactory progress finding the other Pixies. But now, it was probably the most efficient method of searching out the identity of this de'Martou person."It will take time to arrange, in any case." Prints would have to be made and then they would have to be stamped with the marks of both the City and the Crown before posting.

A good print house could probably produce them by the end of the day, for a price. Louise frowned, on that subject, a small reward probably wouldn't be out of place. But what would a 'small' reward be? This de'Martou fellow certainly wasn't anyone highly placed. What would Commoners and Petty Mages consider a reasonable sum?

"Lets go check in on Tabitha and Kirche first. They might have found something while we were gone." She decided, waving for KoKo to follow her down a branch in the hall.

They found the two foreign mages situated in a study in the Eastern Wing. Kirche lounging on a sofa while Tabitha had seated herself at the bottom of a tall ladder, a pile of books taken from the tall shelves that lined one wall situated at her side. Neither of them looked the least bit motivated as Louise surveyed the scene, eye twitching.

"I suppose it's too much to ask that you've found something." Louise decided out loud as she watched the two. She was gone one day and it appeared neither of them had lifted a finger.

Tabitha turned the page of her book and Kirche yawned, stretching slowly as she was roused from a nap. "Oh," she blinked sleepily, "Valliere."

"Zerbst." Louise answered mechanically.

The Germanian's eyes turned next to the Faerie at her side. "And KoKo, how have you been?"

The Cait smiled easily. "Doing real well actually, Kirche-san."

Tabitha looked up from her book long enough to give a small nod of greeting before turning back to the page.

The relaxed air was rapidly getting on Louise's nerves. First Kirche and Tabitha, and now KoKo too? It was like she and Botan were the only ones who were taking this matter seriously anymore. "Kirche!" Louise snapped bluntly, foot tapping the hardwood floor of the study. "My question."

"That de'Martou guy?" Kirche asked as she sat up. "Yeah, we've been looking into him. But no luck finding his whereabouts so far."

"Of course not." Louise muttered under her breath. She'd at least held out hope. "So I suppose we haven't gotten anywhere at all."

Kirche kept a neutral face as she answered. "Now, now, I didn't say that."

Louise narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the Germanian. "Oh really?"

"What do you think me and Tabi were doing all last night?" Kirche asked.

Louise noticed the bags under the other girl's eyes. It seemed she wasn't lying about being up all night. Louise gave a small snort, nevertheless, "With you, I should think some sort of heathen debauchery."

Kirche smiled thinly. "Haha, very funny Valliere. But I'll have you know that after a long day of asking all over the Capital for your mystery man, we were up all night going through familial records at the archive."

Familial? Louise grimaced. Were they trying to find some record of Terrance de'Martou? If so, then she could only have wished them good luck. Unlike the tax registry, which had good reason to be kept up to date, records chronicling the family lines of the low Nobility were rarely kept with any degree of consistency. It would be a nightmare to track someone down through that.

"And? Did you find anything?" Louise asked.

Tabitha held up a blue, leather bound book embosed with a chivalric crest. "de'Martou, three generations of Chevaliers. Served the Kingdom of Tristain with distinction in the War of the Rose and the Three Years War."

"The Three Years War?" Louise shook her head. "But that was almost half a century ago!"

Tabitha nodded. "Family died out." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Or fell on hard times." She nodded again to signify satisfaction with her assessment.

Meaning, Louise thought, that if there had been further de'Martous, they had not qualified to inherit any sort of title and had likely wondered off into obscurity like so many other families, great and small, before them.

"So the trail went cold, again." She took a seat beside Kirche. Well, it had been a distant hope.

A hand rustled her hair, and Louis looked up at KoKo. "Hey, don't get so glum, there's no guarantee that those de'Martous were related to the one we're looking for anyway."

Kirche propped her elbows against her knees, holding her chin in her laced fingers. "While that's true, de'Martou wasn't really a common name in the records, and their former land holdings aren't far from the Capital. I'd be willing to bet the de'Martou we're looking for is a son or grandson of the last Chevalier de'Martou."

"That estate wouldn't happen to still have people living on it, would it?" KoKo leaned back against the arm of the sofa. "I mean, if it does, maybe someone there would know the whereabouts of the person we're looking for."

"That sounds like a good idea." Botan settled onto the table in front of Louise and Kirche. "If there are fewer people to ask, we might be able to get answers there."

"Sylphid's out hunting." Tabitha said. "Plan to fly out this afternoon."

"Then we should probably instruct someone to have those posters made in the mean time." Louise said, feeling a faint charge of energy. They weren't entirely stuck, they were still making progress, however slowly.

"Posters?" Kirche quirked a brow and then listened to KoKo's explanation. It seemed like a good idea, and seeing the Zerbst agree gave Louise no small amount of satisfaction.

Arranging for the posters turned out to be simpler than Louise had expected. A number of small print houses existed in the districts adjacent to the Royal Palace and were frequently called upon to mass print copies of Crown edicts and updates to the legal and tax codes for dissemination throughout the Kingdom.

A simple flash of the document proving her credentials had been all that it had taken for Louise ensure that an order of five hundred fliers would be completed by the end of the day and sent on to the Palace for authentication and posting. That only left the matter of payment.

Louise had left the haggling to an all too eager Kirche, watching with growing irritation as the Germanian used _every_ asset at her disposal to drive the cost of the order down to the price of the paper and ink and then some. They'd walked out of the printer's with KoKo congratulating the Zerbst on her mercantile prowess, an experience that left Louise feeling strangely ill tempered. Certainly she couldn't be jealous over Kirche flaunting her body!

It was just shocking was all. Especially after having grown to see her as something other than the school harlot.

Sylphid had yet to return from her hunting expedition into the near forests, though Tabitha remained unworried. The Faeries had picked the region around the Capital clean of most of the dangerous mobs, leaving only the native wildlife, that which could survive in the face of the competing ALfheim Fauna, and a number of smaller mob species that could best be described as 'snacks' for something the size of a wind dragon.

With little else to do, Kirche had suggested, and Louise had relented, to return to her practical studies.

The Royal Palace was situated near the northern edge of the city, behind low, thick walls that could be easily fortified in times of war, such as now. From the air, the Palace seemed to consist of a large, central structure rising five floors with two, large, four floored wings stretching out to the East and West. A pair of shorter wings extended from the North side of the Palace, parallel and opposite to one another, partially enclosing a memorial garden for the late King.

The two Northern wings terminated near a grove of cherry trees surrounding one of the many, smaller, isolated gardens that made up the Palace grounds. Botan had discovered this place after growing homesick and between its seclusion and the baffling provided by the surrounding trees, it had become the ideal practice grounds for Louise to work on her smaller spells.

A familiar, black feathered formed, jumped and glided through the trees before diving down at Botan's commanding whistle.

'Gyaaa!' Schwartz cried shrilly as his master patted soothingly at his nose and offered him a piece of jerky nearly as large as herself.

Devouring the morsel hungrily, the black feathered dragon settled down to be groomed as Louise and the others made their way deep into the garden. KoKo stopped in mid stride, ears pivoting about as if possessed of a mind of their own.

"What is it?" Louise asked.

The Cait tilted her head, not worried, but a little more alert. "I think there's someone else here."

Louise paused to listen, she thought she'd heard something, but maybe it was just the rustling of the leaves. "I don't hear anything."

"Me neither." Kirche said.

"No. Someone's there." Tabitha said softly. "I can hear them."

"And I can smell them." Botan said, having risen from grooming her mount, the small Knight took her place cautiously at Louise's side. "Like sweat, and soap."

Following the foot path through the the trees and shrubs, Louise got her first glimpse of the person who had intruded on her favored practice spot. And then it was her turn to pause. For one, she didn't think anyone could move that fast, a Faerie maybe, but not a human, at least, not without magic.

Sword glinting, a blonde haired youth was in the midst of fighting an invisible enemy, or in fact, seemed to be fighting four of them at once. Guarding, countering, and spinning lightly on the balls of his feet, more like a dancer than a fighter, always perfectly balanced, every motion well timed and confident.

Louise noted both Kirche and Tabitha nodding in approval. Even though she'd never touched a sword, Louise knew enough from seeing her mother practice to tell that such grace was a mark of true accomplishment.

She had little time to observe beyond that. The swordsman had noticed them. Stopping his form in mid swing and swiftly re-sheathing his blade, he came to a stop as swiftly as he'd sprung into motion with hardly a breath to hint at his exertion.

Still at last, Louise got her first good look of the man. Young, blond, garbed in dark pants and a white cotton shirt. A military style jacket was hung across a wooden bench beneath the shade offered by one of the cherry trees. His features were a mix of what she would have thought of as Gallian and Romalian, not unattractive, but the eyes were something different. Red and Blue, 'Moon Eyes', a rare trait, very rare.

He was watching her. It couldn't have been for more than a second. It was those eyes. Blue and Red. They calmed and disquieted her at the same time. Like she was looking at a coin stood on edge, two halves a whole, mostly the same, but standing out all the more for their lone difference.

The Youth lowered his hand from his sword and bowed lightly. "Good day Madams. I hope my presence hasn't disturbed your walk."

"Oh, not at all." Kirche purred like a predator that had just sensed blood.

Louise rolled her eyes. "Actually, we came here to practice ourselves. It never occurred to me that someone else might favor this spot."

The youth smiled. "Yes. It reminds me of a place back home. Though there, it is olive trees, and the weather by now would be a good deal more sweltering I should think." Blinking as if he had just realized he'd forgotten something, he smiled apologetically and bowed once more. "Forgive my manners, my name is Julio Chesare."

"Kirche Augusta Frederica von Anhalt Zerbst. Charmed" Kirche said cheerfully. "Oh, and this here is Tabitha." She added on behalf of her silent friend.

Kirche was braking out her full name, Louise noted, interesting. Wait, had he said Chesare?

"Excuse me." Louise paused, "Ah, Louise de La Valliere." She introduced herself in short. "But Julio Chesare? Is that not the name of the representative the Holy Father?" Had she just barged in on the personal representative of the Pope?!

The boy smiled genially. "Well, I don't care for such address, but that would be I."

"Uhm. Holy Father?" KoKo asked. "Like as in the Church?"

"Why yes." Julio took a rag from where he had left it to hang on a nearby tree branch and began to wipe away the sweat. "Specifically, a Holy Knight of Romalia. And you must be one of the Cait Syth. I mean no disrespect if I have that wrong."

"KoKo." The Cait nodded politely. "And you're right on the money. It's a pleasure to meet you Chesare-san."

Tilting his head, Julio had apparently noticed the smallest of their group. "And if I may be so forward as to assume that you are one of the Pixies I have heard mention of?"

Nodding her head reluctantly, Botan rose to give a small courtesy and introduce herself. Louise wasn't sure if the mistrust was Botan's own, or something that the small Knight had picked up from Louise herself. In either case, it only fed her own sense of uncertainty.

"I am Botan, a Knight of the Garden of Tarbes."

"Well then, it is an honor to meet you Dame Botan." Julio's voice dripped with sincerity. "I had to abstain from the opportunity to accompany the Princess to meet with Lady Sakuya and your Sisters. But I hope to observe when your people are included in the settlement treaty. The Holy Father and myself pray only for harmony between our peoples."

"On behalf of my Sisters and Mother Yggdrasil, I thank you." It was hardly an elegant reply, Louise appraised, but given that Botan was at her core a fighter above all else, it had been the picture of diplomatic grace.

Julio nodded once more. "Again, forgive me for occupying your training area. Though I would think this place a little confined to practice magic." The young priest observed as if making conversation.

"Oh it is!" Kirche agreed. "But we don't want Louise here to disturb anyone while she practices." The Germanian's smile could have illuminated Arrun. "She has a bit of an incendiary reputation."

"Thank you Kirche." Louise muttered. One thing she could be thankful for. As long as Kirche was around, she would always get the worst out of the way at the very beginning.

"Incendiary?" Julio looked perplexed.

"You know. She casts something and," Kirche shrugged, "Boom."

"Boom?" There was a hint of something oddly grave in Julio's voice as he parroted Kirche's monosyllabic reply. Understandable. He probably didn't want to be anyplace near her when she started casting. Though in her defense, she'd gotten much better at controlling the potency of her spells.

"Explosions." Tabitha elaborated in a single word. "Always."

"Really," Louise repeated, "Thank you so much, Kirche, _Tabitha_." The second was usually tolerable enough, which made her weighing in all the more a hurtful betrayal.

Kirche slapped a hand against Louise's back. "Relax Valliere, being ashamed of your problem doesn't help you find a solution. Besides, you never know who might be able to help." She cast a meaningful look to Julio.

Louise was actually quite surprised by his reply. He raised his hands in apology. "Sorry, but actually, I'm not a Mage."

"Not a Mage?" Louise repeated, not sure if she believed it.

If he were simply a priest like he had claimed, it would have been plausible enough. There were many commoner priests and even a handful of non-Mages of even higher rank within the hierarchy of the Church. The Church viewed such men as essential to properly understand the lives of its flocks. But a Knight was something else entirely.

Especially a Holy Knight of Romalia. Romalia, the Kingdom of the Church of Brimir, swayed with words ten times more often than it did with the sword. Romalia had rarely involved itself in the wars that cropped up on the continent, preferring to act as a neutral arbiter. This had served the Church well over the centuries, and the Kingdom had accumulated tremendous wealth and influence while enjoying nearly uninterrupted peace.

Thus, Romalia's army was a small, lavishly equipped, and highly professional.

The Romalian Navy's ships were regarded as second only to Albion's ships of the line, with many built in the very same yards that were now held by Tristain's mortal enemy. Its small standing army was perhaps the only force in all of Halkegenia that could field formations containing a higher proportion of Mages than Tristain. Romalia's army also contained a much higher proportion of knights, holy soldiers of the Church, who were of equally higher caliber.

To be without magic and yet able to achieve such distinction spoke incredibly highly of both Julio's natural ability, and the trust afforded in him by the Church.

"It is just so." Julio lamented. "I fear the only aid I might offer in regards to magic are my prayers."

"Well, we'll take those too." Kirche decided. "Believe me, Louise needs all the help she can get."

Muttering about Kirche's less than ladylike qualities, Louise made her way to a clearing at the middle of the garden. With hardly more than a few soft chants, Tabitha made the necessary preparations. The stone foot path at the center of the garden began to sink and flow until it had formed well around three mails deep and four across. Water began to spill from the end of Tabitha's staff, fast filling the small pool.

They had discovered early on in Louise's practice, while Guiche had been helping them, that Earth magic was less than optimal to shield against Louise's spells.

More often than not, the magically conjured barriers only made things worse by adding debris to the concussive force of Louise's explosions. It also proved, to Louise's smug satisfaction, that Guiche wasn't nearly the master of Earth Wards that he claimed to be.

Seeking an alternative to mitigate the collateral damage of her practice sessions, it had been Kirche of all people who had offered a solution from her home country. Put simply, they would fight fire with water.

Germanian fire mages generally began their training standing at the center of a pond or lake. A large reservoir of water provided a ready made means to extinguish powerful flames, and a place for the mage to quickly escape to if they lost control of a spell. Likewise, a pool of water could contain the power of Louise's own spells by absorbing the energy of the blasts.

Even better, unlike Guiche's stone barriers, the worst the water could do was splash all over the place with little risk of debris becoming a hazard to anyone nearby, or not so nearby as Headmaster Osmond had almost discovered on one unfortunate occasion.

"Ready?" Tabitha asked.

Louise breathed. "Ready."

This time, Tabitha didn't bother with magic, instead simply selecting a number of small stones from beside the footpath, hefting each to determine its weight, then, one by one, tossing the stones across the pool sometimes throwing them overhand and sometimes more forcefully skipping them off of the water.

Tabitha completely ignored Louise as she threw the stones, instead focusing on maintaining her tempo. If Louise couldn't keep up, that was her own problem.

The objective of this exercise was to catch each stone with a levitation spell before it made it to the other side of the water. The reasoning was, that since Louise had at last managed to start using common spells, albeit with mixed success, the next step was to force her out of her developing comfort zone and force her to cast quickly and accurately. So far, the results had been mixed.

While Louise could now reliably levitate small objects without causing an explosion, she could only do so reliably while completely focused on the task at hand. If her attention wavered for even an instant, well, Botan thought it was a marvelous way to make apple sauce. Now, attempting to catch the fast moving stones, her success rate was closer to one in three or even just one in four. For every stone she caught and tossed into the pile at her feet, she blasted three to gravel.

Julio observed politely until Tabitha exhausted her ready supply of projectiles. Eyes following each stone, his lips twitched every time one of the small rocks burst. "Well then, I believe I've kept you long enough from your practice. I shall take my leave. Miss Valliere." His smile grew mysterious. "I do truly hope for your success."

Louise barely noted the Knight's departure, her attention was completely wrapped up examining her latest series of partial failures.

Some of the things that Kirche had suggest had helped, duelist techniques meant to circumvent thought and make the caster act on reflex. It seemed to bypass whatever Louise was doing to sabotage herself, but the results weren't perfect. Common spells were workable enough, but manipulating any of the elements was still beyond her.

Sighing to herself, she listened for the hundred time as Kirche walked her through technique with the occasional comment from Tabitha.

"Don't let the stone distract you Louise." Kirche stood behind her, taking hold of her wand arm and adjusting the tilt of her head. "Urgency is the bane of a mage. Until you can fully control your magic, speed wont do you any good."

"I know that already!" Louise snapped back. Founder, she knew it! But knowing was one thing and doing another.

It was these baby steps, she thought. Her systematic retraining had seemed to be paying dividends after her return from Tarbes. She'd been delighted at first to see herself making progress. But success had spawned impatience and a gnawing insistence that she should be able to do more, faster, better.

She'd almost let herself forget the lessons that had gotten her this far, and it had been frustrating to return to them.

"I thought it would get easier is all." Louise grumbled as she examined her new wand, a graceful focus purchased from one of the Capital's best craftsmen. Mother had been in a very generous mood, going so far as to examine each wand in person before giving them to Louise to try for herself.

Kirche looked bemused. "Oh, is that so? I think if it really got that easy, you'd see a lot more Square mages running around."

"Kirche-san has a point." KoKo chided. "Back when I was in school I worked really hard at archery and I still wasn't even close to being a master."

"Archery?" Kirche cocked her head.

"Oh yeah," KoKo grinned, "I was a pretty fair hand with a bow but I was never as good as some of my friends and not even close to my instructor." The Cait's ears twitched thoughtfully. "But my point is, it never gets easy Louise-chan, because if its easy you aren't challenging yourself anymore."

Louise nodded slowly. Right, she was back to failing, but it was at a higher level than she had ever failed at before, and once she stopped failing at this, she could move on to failing at something even more challenging.

"So that's why you use a bow?" Louise asked.

KoKo scratched at the back of her head. "Yeah, I was already pretty good with them, so I just stuck with it when I started playing ALfheim. I really shine with longbows, but they're a little tricky to use in midair."

"But you use magic as well, don't you?" Kirche questioned. "I mean, you didn't just use your bow and arrow back in Tarbes."

"Right." The Cait held up her hands. "I'm pretty good at tagging my arrows with enchantments and elemental buffs," she smiled, "And I guess it comes in handy for other things too."

That was another thing Louise couldn't quite wrap her head around. The Fae didn't act like their magic made them anything special. Though it made a little sense, perhaps, Louise thought, knowing what she knew.

After all, the Faeries had been humans in that other world, if KoKo was to be believed, then nobody in that world had possessed an ounce of proper magic. It explained why the Cait Syth woman could seem so giddy at the prospect, like a first year waving about a brand new wand.

Any further comments were cut off by a faint 'Kyuui' from far above signaling the return of Tabitha's dragon, no doubt having had her fill of the small mobs that had taken to infesting the lands beyond the Capital.

"Well then, back to work!" Botan chirped as she dropped back down onto Schwartz and took hold of his reigns.

Louise was all too eager to agree as they made their way from the concealed garden and back towards the Palace. Sylphied was smart enough to know exactly where to land to await her master and had already settled near the far end of the Palace's Eastern Wing.

The group picked up pace when Louise noticed a solitary figure dismissing a servant at the nearby steps and walking out to meet them.

By the time they reached Sylphied, the figure had resolved itself into a severe looking, blond haired young woman moving briskly and with purpose. The way that she stared straight at them left no doubt in Louise's mind that her arrival was no coincidence. But what gave Lousie pause was her dress.

A uniform, a proper military uniform, Trousers, durable blouse, and heavy cotton jacket dyed in the colors of the Royal Guard, and most importantly, the sword on her hip. Not a servant, a soldier!

And as she got closer, Louise noticed something else hung from her belt opposite her sword. It took her a moment to identify the clumsy looking device, a pistol. Louise had never had reason to examine one up close. Guns were a commoner weapon with little utility to a Mage.

"Good day." Louise called. "What business would you have with us, Miss?"

"Agnes." The woman said coming to a halt with rigid military stance that reminded Louise all too much of her mother. "Lieutenant Agnes of her Majesty's Royal Musketeer Squadron. Would you happen to be Louise de La Valliere?"

'Lieutenant?' Louise thought, eyeing the pistol once more, and a commoner as well? Louise hadn't even known that there _were_ commoner officers. Didn't one have to be a Mage to achieve that status in the army. Then again, she had just met with a Commoner Knight. It seemed such people existed if one only looked.

She shook her head, that wasn't important right now. "Yes, I am she. How may I be of service to a member of her Majesty's Guard?"

The blonde woman's eyes narrowed suspiciously, noting Tabitha, Kirche, and KoKo. "My business is only with you Miss Valliere."

The youngest Valliere daughter bit off an unladylike reply. No, of course she was right to be cautious in these times. "If you're worried about eavesdropping, I can vouch for everyone here." Louise said diplomatically.

After some apparent deliberation, Agnes nodded reluctantly, then regaining her momentum. "I'm here to ask about you inquiries about one Terrance de'Martou."

Louise was fully alert at once. She didn't even spare a moment to wonder how the Musketeer had learned of her investigation. "Truly?! Then, do you know something of the whereabouts of this man?"

Agnes nodded again slowly. "I do."

Louise had to strangle a triumphant cry in her chest as she spun around to look back at Botan. The Pixie Knight looked every bit as excited, maybe even more so. That joy died a heartbeat later as Agnes continued.

"I've come to learn your business with de'Martou and if necessary, to warn you off." Agnes said.

Warn them off? Louise wondered, everything beginning to come together. "Then, do you have something to do with the missing documentations on Terrance de'Martou?"

In reply, Agnes reached into her jacket and withdrew a carefully folded letter. "Those documents are being held at my order." She explained, allowing the letter to fall open so that Louise could see the Royal Seal embossed, granting the holder the full authority and cooperation of Tristain's government and Nobility. "Terrance de'Martou is currently under investigation for tax embezzlement and ties to the Radical Revolution Movement Reconquista. I demand to know your business with him."


	7. Silence in the Library

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 3 - Part 3

With a loud thunk, Kirito set down a wooden crate and spilled the contents over the Library table. Adventures in Paperwork , Kirito was beginning to understand, hadn't been an exaggeration. Just look at all of this, he felt like he needed hiking equipment.

After talking with everyone who had known Novair, and the few Faeries who might have witnessed something on the night of the murder, they had next turned their attention to reconstructing just what exactly Novair had been doing prior to his demise, thinking that his work might shed light on why anyone would want to kill him. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.

The table was covered in files and ledgers, the contents of Novair's office, their indecipherable hand written titles the only hint to what they contained. It was like a puzzle of a perfectly blue sky. Kirito felt his eye twitching, not for the first time that day. He wanted to put this off, but Lady Sakuya needed these documents back as soon as possible. The smooth running of Arrun depended on it.

"You would have thought the guy would have been more organized." The latest addition to their team said.

Caramella picked up a thick manilla envelope, hefting the document as if to weigh its contents, and only then read the title. "First month, food consumption report, Northern Region . . . City of Tau Tona . . . City of Goubniu . . ." She shook her head as she dropped the document into a sorted pile before moving to the next.

Kirito sighed softly. He still had mixed feelings about this, but Asuna trusted her, so that should have been good enough.

He had been right to worry about Asuna finding out about his involvement in the murder investigation. When he had told her, his wife had been more than just furious, she hadn't even raised her voice, instead, she'd gotten quieter.

Kirito swallowed as he recalled. Asuna could be terrifying when she wanted, but the other day had been on a whole new plane of existence. He'd felt like she could have scared off the Skull Reaper with that look.

And she was right to feel that way. As much as he wanted to keep her safe, he'd kept something from her. They'd argued about it well out of earshot of Yui. Things had gotten more than a little heated, and naturally Kirito had lost. But he had held his ground about Asuna remaining uninvolved.

After all they'd been through, he wanted her to have at least a taste of the normal life she'd missed out on for the past two years, if only for a little while. That had been enough to cause her to relent, mostly.

In the end they had settled on this. If Asuna wasn't going to get involved personally, then someone that she trusted would just have to go in her place. Caramella had barely even needed to be asked. The former Aincrad Liberation Army member seemed all too happy to accept Asuna's request. Kirito's eyes narrowed, annoyingly too happy.

"Tis probably an eccentricity." Argo decided as she looked over the documents. "He had his own system and didn't think to teach it to anyone else."

"Lucky us." Caramella observed as she flipped through a ledger. "This one is an expense report. Looks like . . . everything we've been buying from Tristain to keep people fed."

"Yeah, I think Novair was keeping a master ledger to be sure we didn't get cheated. That could be important. Put it on Kii-bou's pile for now." Argo instructed, burying her nose in another folder. "And if you find anything else on security or intel gathering, toss it to me."

Seeing to the autopsy had just been the start. A real life murder, as opposed to the murders perpetrated against the trapped players in the death game of SAO, left behind a lot of physical evidence. Blood trails, paper trails, and hundred of connecting threads. But unraveling them took time and work.

It wasn't an exaggeration to say that these papers documented Novair's life. The saying that 'Behind Every Great Man, there is a Great Woman', came to mind, and it seemed that the reverse could also be true. Every business dealing, meeting, and transaction that Novair had performed on behalf of Lady Sakuya was recorded here. And that was the problem.

Information Overload. There was just too much here to find a common thread, because in the end, everything was so tightly connected. The trail started at Novair, but Novair was connected to everything. If there had been a motive behind his murder, than it would be easier to find out who _didn't_ have a reason to kill him.

"Just what was Novair's job title anyways." Kirito wondered. Did Secretary really do all of this justice?

"I don't think he really had an official title." Argo said as she read on. "He just did a little bit of everything. Briefed Sakuya-san, kept her appointment books, took notes, managed her guard rotations, that sort of stuff."

Kirito grimaced, he'd thought it was something like that, but hearing it out loud just reinforced his suspicions. "Then, what's the chance that the real target of this murder was Sakuya-san?"

Argo sat back in her chair. The possibility had obviously occurred to the information broker. It was just an extremely unpleasant thing to consider, and not one they would want to raise with Lady Sakuya without solid evidence. "You're thinking about that tasteless banner from the other day?"

"We can't rule out the possibility." Kirito warned. "Especially right now. Novair was Sakuya-san's friend. It seems really petty, and the vandals might have just been Trolls, but the timing is too convenient. This looks like it was designed to hurt her."

"So a political opponent?" Caramella thought out loud. "Uhm, okay, does Sakuya-san have any of those? I mean, it's only been, what, six weeks? I mean is that really enough time for that sort of stuff to start up? Unless, it's something she brought with her."

Argo tilted her head, puffball ears pivoting as she thought. "As a matter of fact," Fishing around in the pocket of her cloak, she extracted a small, leather bound notebook no larger than the strategy guides she had created in Aincrad, "Here."

She turned the book over for Kirito to read. "There's really only two people that could be called serious opposition. One of them is a person name Ryo, he ran against Sakuya-san in the last elections, but he didn't get very far. He's been making some noise over the last couple of weeks about how Sakuya-san tisn't qualified to be a real leader. But it just sounds like he's a soar loser."

Kirito scanned the page. Argo had been as thorough and concise as always. A Sylph resident of Sylvain, previously a raid party leader, now head of the Sylvain City Council. Mage build, wind magic specialty, claimed management experience IRL. He needed to be checked out, if only because he probably knew other people who held similar sentiments.

"Has anyone been paying attention to him?" Caramella rested her head against her hand.

A thoughtful look briefly flashed in Argo's golden eyes before she came to a decision. "Some. Mostly former Trolls and Gankers that didn't get along well with Sakuya-san to begin with. One of them, might have been capable of this. Maybe."

"And the other one?" Kirito asked.

Argo asked for her book back and quickly flipped the pages the end. Held between the last two pages, a thin scrap of paper fell to the table. At first glance it appeared to be a handwritten letter.

"There's also this guy. A Puca named Regin. He and his friends have been posting letters like this on the message boards in Sylvain, Arrun, and Freelia for the last week." Argo said.

"And this guy wants Sakuya to resign too?" Caramella frowned.

"Actually, he's been pretty generous towards Sakuya in his letters. He thinks she's done a good job." Argo tapped a fingernail impatiently against the table top. "But he does say the Faction Leaders are acting as dictators and that it needs to stop. He wants an election date to be selected and for the Faerie Lords to stick to it."

Could they really afford to do something like that at a time like this? Kirito wondered. There was a war looming on the horizon, and even beyond that was the difficulty of integrating into Tristain, and looking for a way home. Did they really have the luxury of bickering among themselves just now?

It would be different if the Faction Leaders were abusing their authority, but that really wasn't the case. Even Lord Mortimer had been abiding by the self imposed limitations that he and the other Leaders had agreed to.

"It seems very optimistic." Kirito decided.

"You mean naive." Argo corrected, voice almost dripping with contempt. "But unlike Ryo, it doesn't sound unreasonable, and that tis winning Regin a lot of support, even with the people who like Sakuya-san and the other leaders. Tis nothing big right now, but lots of people are starting to feel like they don't have a voice with the Faerie Lords."

"So you don't agree?" Kirito was actually a little surprised.

Argo shrugged her shoulders, a motion that was replicated by her ears. "I just think we have bigger fish to fry right now, Kii-bou." She looked over her shoulder to where a doll like figure sat atop a nearby bookshelf. "Hey, Suisen, you're sure we have everything that was in Novair's office, right?"

Suisen stopped nibbling on her snack, a crumb from a fruit tart, and gave a small nod. "Yes, Argo-san." She enunciated the name awkwardly. "I watched them just like you instructed. Jensen and Vakarian-san didn't remove anything during their investigation."

Not 'Mistress' like when they'd first met, Kirito noted. But that was to be expected. The discovery of the sentient Pixie Mobs in Tarbes had simply confirmed what many players had already begun to suspect about their tiny partners. The former player support AIs had, like the rest of ALfheim, become fully realized in this world, possessing intelligence and wills of their own. Although, judging by Suisen, the generally submissive personality and attachment to their masters turned caretakers had remained mostly unchanged.

Ethical treatment of the Navigation Pixies, and what was to be done with them had become a hotly debated issue since the Wild Pixies had arrived in Arrum. Almost as discussed as the murder. Through Yui, Kirito had learned that the Garden Pixies were evenly divided on the matter, half wanted the Nav Pixies to be taken back to the Gardens to be integrated into their fledgling society, while the other half thought the Nav Pixies should be allowed to make the decision for themselves so long as they were treated well.

Kirito didn't think he really had the right to weigh in on the matter, but he favored the latter option. Just watching the way that Argo fussed over the tiny girl had decided it for him.

In the mean time, the Nav Pixies had found their way into almost every endeavor, volunteered by their caretakers to help around Arrun and the other cities as living calculators and databases. The Arrun Library alone was home to over a hundred of them, constantly flitting about on slender wings in their ongoing efforts to index and organize the entire repository.

"What about his desk, did they move anything?" Argo patted a crate marked Desktop, filled with the open reports and letters that had been left scattered across Novair's desk the day before his murder. With the help of Suisen's photographic memory, it was possible to exactly arrange the contents of Novair's office as they had been left.

"No. Vakarian-san and Jensen-san only read over what was already opened." Suisen answered and then tilted her head. "They were more interested in questioning the people who worked with Novair-san and checking his apartment." Something that Kirito and Argo had already done as well. But the questioning hadn't led to much. The Sylph had seemingly lived for his work and that was all anybody really knew.

"What are the chances that this was a crime of passion?" Caramella got both Kirito and Argo's attention.

Argo snorted faintly. "Yeah right. I didn't know Novair very well, but off the job, he was about as exciting to be around as a block of raw Tofu."

"One of those guys?" Kirito thought out loud.

Some people played MMOs to pretend that they were more interesting than they really were IRL, but doing so required a fair amount of talent in a full dive game. Some succeeded spectacularly while others did not. Novair appeared to have been the latter.

"Tis the sad truth." Argo sighed. "He didn't drink, and I'd be very surprised if he had anyone he was seeing."

"Okay, then bare with me." Caramella insisted. "Sakuya-san is pretty popular in a lot of circles. Maybe one of her fans didn't like Novair being so close to her."

The table fell silent, each of the investigators digesting what had just been said. Could someone really do something like that? Kirito didn't need to wonder, he knew the answer first hand. In fact, he was surprised it hadn't occurred to him sooner. Why hadn't it?

Because . . . Because he didn't want to think that way. He didn't want to think that sort of idea had followed them here.

"I guess that's another thing we'll have to look into." Kirito closed his eyes and stretched back in his seat until the chair was balanced only on its back legs, feeling the tension fading from his arms and shoulders. Super human strength made muscle cramps an all new type of hell.

"Please refrain from misusing Library furniture." A whispered voice got his attention.

Kirito looked up, and almost fell out of his chair as a pair of severe, hazel eyes regarded him authoritatively. Wobbling, a hand caught the back of his chair just as it began to tip, pushing him back from the brink.

The eyes belonged to a Faery Girl, short, wavy brown hair pulled back in a small bun, a pair of spectacles balanced on the bridge of her nose. They had to be a prop, Kirito didn't know of any Faeries who had anything but perfect vision. That might change as time went by, but not in just six weeks.

The girl was dressed in scholarly robes and cap, a book tucked into the crook of her arm. A trio of Nav Pixies flitted about, settling on her shoulders and forearms, watching silently with identical calm expressions.

"Oh, Bishop-chan." Argo said. "Good timing."

The girl looked over at the Cait, a small frown appearing on her lips. "Miss Argo. If you are going to reserve a table in the Library, I do ask that you respect the rules." The girl looked back to Kirito, glaring balefully from behind her glasses.

Kirito swallowed, there was something almost instinctively frightening about her, like he was looking right into the eyes of a truly terrifying Boss Mob that had appeared as if from nowhere. How had she even been able to do that? With his Perception Skill she would had to have had her Hiding and Sneak skills both mastered to move up on him like that. What sort of Ninja build character was she?

"You two know each other?" Kirito quickly attempted to shift the attention away from himself, and more importantly, escape the murderous Killing Intent that should have been impossible to sense in this real world.

"Un." Argo nodded. "Bishop-chan is the head Librarian. Bishop-chan, this is Kii-bou and Caramel-chan."

"That's Ca-ra- . . ." The Swordswoman began to lean back in her own chair, and then thought better of it as the small Librarian gazed menacingly at her. Slowly, the dangerous look vanished as Bishop adjusted her glasses.

"It's is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Kirito-san, Caramella-san." Bishop nodded to both of them.

"Sorry to bother you with this, I'll keep Kii-bou in line from now on." Kirito felt a foot kicking him beneath the table.

"Sorry. I'll keep the Library rules in mind for now on."

"I ask that you do. Rule breakers can be most disruptive." Bishop answered with a small, satisfied nod before turning back to Argo. "Rule breaking aside, I came to give you this. I believe you said you were looking for a copy."

"Oh, excellent!" Argo cheered as she took the offered book. "Tis this the whole thing?"

The Librarian nodded. "It was cataloged just this morning. You'll be the first to check it out."

Argo opened the book and began to thumb through the pages, grin widening all the while. "Thanks, I owe the Library big time for this."

"There is a collection box for donations on my desk." Bishop said.

"Right, right, I'll toss something in the next time I have some spare cash." Argo tilted her head. "So, tis that all?"

"You're investigating the murder of Mister Novair, are you not?" Bishop asked.

The three Faeries exchanged glances, again it was Argo that acted as spokesman. "Tis what we hope to sort out." She said softly. "We owe it to Novair-san to find his killer at least."

Tilting her head oddly, Bishop blinked. "I see." She gave a small nod. "Please do. I suppose you will be staying until closing time."

"Until we have this solved, tis our top concern." Argo laced her fingers atop the table. "I was actually going to ask if we could stay late. I know it tis a rule, but . . . "

"As long as a Librarian is on duty, it isn't a problem." Bishop bowed. "Very well. I'll bring some tea later." As she turned to leave, the Librarian stopped and stared at Kirito once more.

Kirito couldn't help it, he fidgeted, it was like he was being put under observation. "Uhm, yes?"

"Please try to obey the rules from here on, Kirito-san." The Librarian's words were quiet, but surprisingly forceful, and he had a menacing feeling that she had ways to make that into a threat.

"Y-yes Ma'am." He scratched nervously at his cheek.

Satisfied, Bishop turned and vanished down one of the rows of bookshelves, muted footsteps vanishing almost as soon as she disappeared from sight.

"Where the hell did they find her?" Caramella wondered out loud.

"Here apparently." Argo rested a hand on the book she had been gifted. "I'm surprised Kii-bou hasn't met her before."

"Well, I guess it takes all kinds." Kirito finally looked back from the hall down which Bishop had vanished. Whatever that strange impression had been, it could wait.

They'd set back to work, burying themselves in reports and letters. That this much material could be generated in just six weeks was insane, it seemed Novair had been very thorough if nothing else. The spots of sky visible through the small, high set Library windows slowly turned from blue to orange, and then finally pale violet, the fading daylight being replaced by the soft yellow glow of ore lamps hung by wires from the ceiling.

They'd worked through it all, catching only a brief break to eat when Bishop returned with the promised tea and a platter of triangular cut sandwiches. They weren't Asuna's masterpieces, but hunger was its own spice.

Stretching slowly, the three investigators set the last crate aside, rubbing tired eyes.

"So, what do we know?" Argo asked as she pawed at her face.

"Novair was a bureaucrat, first class?" Caramella chided and then shook her head. "And that he wasn't doing anything special just prior to his murder. Just expense ledgers and diplomatic reports."

"He also wasn't spotted by anyone after he left the Governor's Mansion." Kirito added. Which meant they had no way to tell where he had been ambushed.

"Novair probably wasn't carrying anything of value, so motives to kill are either political, or a crime of passion." Argo rose and began to pace back and forth like a prowling cat. "Either that or a serial killer."

"H-hey! Don't even joke about that!" Kirito felt himself stutter.

"Tis no joke." Argo grimaced. "We can't close our eyes, especially if that tis the case sa! There's no ethics code or safe zones in place to protect people here. So tis up to us nya!" She took a breath, composing herself. Her Cait Syth verbal ticks had become painfully evident. "I really hope this _tis_ a crime of passion like Caramel-chan said. Because otherwise . . . "

Because otherwise, they had a potential mass murderer wandering the streets of Arrun, someone who was well equipped to kill Faeries, and no way to tell when or where he or she would murder again.

"We can't quit until we've got a lead." Argo decided, tail waving slowly about. "But we're not going to figure anything out while we're exhausted. It's almost ten o'clock now and we have a meeting with those two watch detectives tomorrow morning. You guys should go grab some shut eye."

"What about you." Caramella poked Argo on the shoulder. "You look ready to fall over. Shouldn't you get some sleep too?"

The Cait waved a hand dismissively. "I'll catch a catnap later. There's some notes I want to check before I finish up for the night."

"Right, right." Kirito patted Caramella on the back. He knew when he wasn't wanted, and Argo was almost as much as a solo player as he was. Besides, she invariably did her best work while alone. "Lets go. I bet Kino's worried about you." And hopefully Asuna had kept some leftovers waiting for him at home.

The Swordswoman let out a short barking laugh as she followed. "You know when he heard about the murder, he insisted on locking all the windows and doors, and wouldn't let me go out at night alone? What a worrier!" Her grin softened into something much more sincere. "But you know, Asuna feels the same way."

Kirito remained silent as they climbed the wide stairway to the Library entrance. He stopped on the last step. "Yeah, I know."

"You want to keep her safe, huh?" Caramella reasoned. "Yeah, I get it, but remember she needs you safe too."

"Is this your way of telling me something." Kirito stuffed his hand in his coat pockets. Jeez, as if he didn't feel guilty enough as it was. "What about you and Kino?"

Caramella gave him a solid smack on the back, grinning. "Ah, that? I wouldn't worry too much about me. I'm invincible after all!"

'If only', Kirito thought, but he shared in the good mood as they reached the doors and were met by an Undine and Salamander pair just reaching to open the door. The four stared blankly at each other for a moment. And then . . .

"Kirito-san." One of them, the Undine, said quickly, looking all about as he spoke.

"Uh, oh, Jensen-san?" Kirito felt like this was a hint that the other shoe was about to drop. "Is there something about the investigation you needed to talk about."

"_Yes._ Something like that." The Undine breathed, pushing past Kirito and rushing down the hall following his Salamander Partner. "Is Miss Argo still in?"

Kirito took this as a cue to run after him. "She hasn't left yet. I think she was going to sleep here. It must be important if it can't wait until morning." Kirito watched the Undine's stride quicken until it wasn't quite a run, but he definitely wasn't walking anymore either. Kirito was on high alert immediately. "Jensen-san, what's happening?"

"Hey, answer up!" Caramella demanded at his side.

Reaching out, Jensen grabbed the shoulder of his partner, bringing him to a stop. "We need to tell them."

Vakarian bit off a curse in their general direction. When he spoke, he didn't look at Kirito or Caramella. "The report just came in. We have two more murders in Freelia, a Sylph and a Cait Syth, same MO as Novair."


	8. The Lieutenant's Investigation

Halkegenia Online v2.0 – Chapter 4 - Part 1

Lieutenant Agnes, of her Majesty's Royal Firearms Squadron, was not pleased as she confronted the latest obstacle to her investigation, a trio of Noble Girls and a Faerie of the Cait Syth. Not pleased in the slightest. Three weeks of work had nearly been undone with nary a thought of the consequences. But perhaps, perhaps this had been fortuitous.

"Did it never occur to you," Agnes kept her voice neutral, "That there might be a reason those records were being kept by an Agent of Her Majesty's Will?" It should have, but Agnes had the sneaking suspicion that wouldn't be the answer.

"Well, erm." The Pink haired girl's shoulders drooped. "Oh."

Yes, 'Oh'. That was too often the problem with Nobles, too sheltered, too comfortable in relying on their magic and their cliques to make up for their carelesness. They didn't look, they didn't listen, most of all, they didn't _think_. Still, she had allowed herself to expect more from someone that the Princess spoke so highly of. It only made the disappointment more biting.

"_Terrance de'Martou_ is under investigation for his involvements with Reconquista. I was the one who closed off his records as part of my own investigation." Agnes explained.

The Valliere daughter's eyes widened as she shouted. "You mean, he's a spy!"

Agnes swiftly pressed a hand against the girl's mouth, raising a finger angrily to her own lips. Truly, this was a person the Princess trusted? When she stepped back, Louise nodded slowly. The young mage at least had the decency to look embarrassed of her outburst.

"I . . . I see." Louise said, and then paled, "Then . . . oh Founder."

"My Sisters!"

The shout was forceful, surprisingly loud, and seemingly came from nowhere. Agnes wasn't one to startle easily. Nevertheless, her hand twitched with the reflexive urge to close around the grip of her pistol.

At first, she thought an insect or hummingbird had deigned to light in front of her face. But then she really looked, and it gave her pause. A girl smaller than her own hand hovered before her. Form garbed in yellow blouse and black skirt, shoulder length hair and slender, dragonfly wings. She should have recognized her at once for what she was, a Pixie.

"Forgive me, Miss . . ."

"Botan." The girl curtsied her skirt in a small, practiced motion before buzzing once more. "This man, this Terrance de'Martou person, he works for Reconquista?"

"That is what is feared." Agnes said truthfully, watching as the Pixie flitted to and fro as if beside herself.

"He . . . We think Terrance de'Martou purchased several of Botan's Sisters who were kidnapped from their Garden." Louise explained quietly. "We've been asked by the Princess to find them as part of a settlement with the Pixies."

So it was hostage situation of sorts. Such a conflict of interest. But this was the first she had heard of the Princess's involvement.

Yes, that was unsurprising, the Princess was quite taken with the Fae. Agnes thought. In fact, Princess Henrietta seemed fascinated by almost everything about them. The Musketeer did not think it entirely healthy.

She noted the Cait who had remained silent, but now moved to place her hands gently on Louise's shoulders. These people were Tristain's new allies, but really, they knew next to nothing about them.

Coming to a decision, Louise spoke again. "Please, if you know the location ofTerrance de'Martou, I would like to ask your permission to accompany you for his arrest. We have to question him at once."

"I do know his whereabouts." Agnes said, getting a look of excitement from Louise and Botan. "But I will not arrest him. Not yet."

"Wha – B-but!" Louise stuttered. "He's a traitor isn't he?! And you call yourself a Servant of the Crown!"

Agnes was not angered by the outburst. It was so like a young Noble girl not to understand these things fully. Not like the Princess who had spent her childhood learning about the realities of governing the Kingdom.

"Louise!" The Cait beside her bit off sharply. Louise cringed as the hands on her shoulders pushed down. But the Faerie woman's expression was one of concern rather than anger. "I'm sure this person has her reasons. You should hear her out and not say such hurtful things."

"It's fine, I didn't take offense." Agnes waved a hand.

"You _do_ have your reasons, don't you?" The Faerie tilted her head. Agnes wouldn't have hesitated save for being strangely certain that, for a heartbeat, the pupils of the Fae's golden eyes had seemed to slit vertically. Of course that would be ridiculous.

She took a breath and nodded gravely. "de'Martou is a traitor, but he is only one of many traitors within the government and nobility of Tristain." Agnes began to explain. "Since the betrayal of the Viscount of Wardes, suspicion has been cast on the entirety of Tristain's government and many of its Noble families."

Louise nodded hesitantly. "Yes, only a few of the most outspoken allies to the crown have been held above suspicion. But it's putting pressure on the Queen and Princess to resolve the matter quickly. Without proof of treachery, it will start to look like the Crown is alienating many of the families while giving unfair favor to its allies."

So not as oblivious as she looked, Agnes thought. Good. "I should not need to inform you how important it is to maintain Tristain's internal stability at a time like this. The presence of spies and traitors in our midst is a grave threat which cannot be tolerated. Therefore, for the last several weeks, the Crown's trusted agents have been following up every lead. It was just such a lead that led me to de'Martou."

Agnes turned back towards the Palace, gesturing for the Nobles and Faeries to follow. This really wasn't something that should be discussed in the open. She was taking enough of a risk speaking directly to Miss Valliere and her friends.

"Terrance de'Martou first came to our attention while investigating the Royal Tax Offices." Agnes continued her patient explanation as they made their way down the quiet halls. "Cardinal Mazarin requested an estimate on tax revenues. The displacement of the Faeries and their lands caused a great deal of disruption. But with the negotiations, and the following declaration of war, the tally was postponed."

"So you caught him in some sort of internal audit." The Faerie woman concluded thoughtfully. "Was he cheating on his taxes or something? And what does that have to do with Reconquista?"

Agnes shook her head. "Terrance de'Martou is a Royal tax collector. His duties are to appraise and collect taxes in the lower class districts of the Capital. A member of the petty Nobility with no formal rank or title and only a small amount of property to his name. During the inspection, it was found that there were consistent . . . discrepancies . . . in his reported numbers."

"Discrepancies?" Louise asked.

_Discrepancies_, yes, that was a good word for it. Errors between the reported revenues and the receipts held by the land and business owners. Agnes grimaced. How else to describe nearly ten percent of the tax revenue from the lower districts vanishing into the ether?

"In any case, theft was suspected on the part of de'Martou, but it quickly became clear that he couldn't have hidden this level of thievery without help. We only learned of it because of the audit coming at an odd time, the older records have been altered or simply lost. Someone much more powerful is sheltering him, and perhaps others. The logical conclusion is that this is some sort of conspiracy within the Tax Offices." Agnes stopped at a door and ushered the group into one of the small meeting parlors that looked out from the Eastern wing.

"I still don't understand." Louise said. "If you know de'Martou is an accomplice to this treachery, why haven't you arrested him and had him interrogated?" Clenching her fists and barring teeth, the girl's voice carried a dangerous note. "Certainly the cretin would talk under the proper methods!"

The dark skinned Germanian quirked an eyebrow. "Careful now Valliere, your blood lust is showing."

"He no doubt would." Agnes agreed, and if it were up to her, those were exactly the methods that would be used. "But de'Martou is not the real prize."

"His backers." The Faerie woman said. "Oh dear, this is like something out of a crime drama."

"So, you're familiar with the idea?" Agnes asked. Quite observant. Good, that would save time in explaining.

Louise turned. "KoKo? What are you talking about?"

"Agnes-san wants to use de'Martou to uncover his backers. Is that right?" The Cait, KoKo, looked at her again.

"Exactly." Agnes agreed. "Now that we know of him, de'Martou is no longer a threat and can be taken into custody at any time. However, doing so will alert his backers. They're the ones we really want. If they suspect he has been discovered, they will certainly cut all ties with him."

And then it would be only de'Martou's word, won under duress, against those of a high ranking Noble. Agnes knew all too well how that sort of accusation would go. It would be called slander, an insult to honor, or worse, turned around into an attack on the Royal Family.

The Crown was currently enjoying a resurgence of popularity, but it was a precarious thing. There were already rumors spreading, comments about the cancellation of the wedding agreement between Henrietta and King Albrecht of Germania. Particularly, the way that the Princess seemed to spend what little free time she had, without fail, in the company of the last Prince of Albion.

Perhaps these rumors were true, perhaps they were not. Agnes neither knew, nor cared, and it was irrelevant besides. What mattered was what people thought, very particular people in this case.

This time it was KoKo who frowned. "It sounds like this is a very difficult situation."

"It is." Agnes sighed, taking a seat at the table. "And that is also why I must warn you off. If anything happens to make the ring leaders suspect de'Martou is under any suspicion, we will lose this opportunity."

In fact, it had gone so far as Agnes quietly _diverting_ suspicion from the man, much as it made her skin crawl. A vile oaf of a Noble who abused what status his station as a tax collector had given him. Wielding the power entrusted in him to serve the Crown so that he could extort and coerce the Petty Mages and Common Peoples alike. Tax collectors were rarely, if ever, liked. But even among his breed, de'Martou was uniquely despised.

She was too professional to admit it, but she was growing weary of this. Too much time spent still, not enough taking action. Leaving a traitor free, even one who was under watch, left her restless. But the order had come directly from Sir Hammond of the Manticore Knights. Only the Queen and Princess could be held in higher trust. She understood the reasoning, she simply didn't like it.

"So, you need to find the ring leaders." Louise said. "Once you have those, we can do what we want with de'Martou?"

"I would not interfere if I thought there was any other way." Agnes confessed. "Once we've learned what we need from de'Martou, and through him, gathered evidence against his superiors, I must ask for you to give no reason for suspicion. After that, I would be happy to give him to you." She noticed the Pixie, now seated again on Louise's shoulder, crossing her arms and looking off to the side. The tiny girl appeared to be fuming.

It was understandable. She had mentioned sisters. Agnes felt herself sober. It had been a very long time since she had known the warmth of family bonds, not since that day long ago. She still remembered them, or rather, still remembered the gap in herself where they should be.

But she couldn't allow that to sway her. Many more lives, many more brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, were at stake. de'Martou, he had had been funneling tax money, not just keeping it for himself but directing it out of the country via trade concerns in the Hanza, and through them circuitously into the coffers of Reconquista. The people of Tristain were being made to pay in gold the wages of their murderers.

What had Reconquista promised de'Martou in return for his service. Land? Title? Did such petty things matter so much? The men responsible for this obscene injustice deserved no mercy, only judgment, and final justice. Nothing else could come before that.

"How much longer will that take." Louise asked.

KoKo gently touched the girl's shoulder. "It's simply that, we haven't much time. The Pixies are children, and they don't do well away from their caretakers. It could cause problems if we don't find them soon."

"My Sisters are suffering every day they're separated from us." Botan lighted down from Louise's shoulder. "I won't let them be alone one second more."

"Botan . . ." Louise reached out.

"No!" The Pixies wings flared. "No more saying that we have to wait. I have to find them now. They need their Elder Sister!"

The table fell silent, an almost tangible tension existing between the pink haired girl and her hummingbird sized companion. Agnes broke the stalemate with a single observation. "In all likeliness, they're no longer in de'Martou's possession."

"W-wha-?" Botan looked up, shocked. Agnes had seen that crushed look before, had warn it herself, long, long ago. She didn't enjoy taking hope away from someone. But if this girl meant to save her sisters, then she couldn't live with a lie.

"Aside from his ties to Reconquista, my investigation has also uncovered that he's been running a smuggling business on the side. Moving goods out of Tristain and using his connections to avoid tariffs. It wouldn't surprise me if doing so with goods from the Faerie Territories is how he's fattening his own purse."

"Then, they're already gone." Louise whispered.

"No . . ." Botan fell to her knees. "No, no, no. This can't be . . ." Louise reached forward, draping her hands around the Pixie and bringing her close to her chest.

"Botan, we're going to find them." Louise said, looking her small companion in the eye. "This just means that we have to follow the Trail from de'Martou, just like we did from Georges and Amir."

"Before the trail goes cold." A quiet voice whispered. That would be the blue haired girl who had been silent until now.

The red head nodded in agreement. "Tabi is right. If de'Martou's already sold the Pixies to someone else, we need to find out as soon as possible. We don't have time for . . . " She gestured vaguely. " . . . all of this."

Which was exactly what Agnes wanted to hear. "Then we're of like mind."

"Excuse me?" The Germanian asked.

"The Princess has spoken highly of Miss Valliere and her acquaintances in the past. I think we can help one another." Agnes laced her fingers. "Which is why, I would like to ask for your help. The sooner de'Martou gives me his masters, the sooner he is of no use to me, and the sooner you may have him."

"Help?" Louise repeated, looking up as if giving the idea some thought. Her face twisted up and she shook her head. "Of course. Anything! What do you propose?"

Agnes began to explain. The surveillance of Terrance de'Martou had been a tedious thing indeed, and they had made little enough headway in these past weeks. The dual need to keep close watch and yet not reveal themselves had frustrated the initial investigators, which was why members of the Firearms Squad had been selected.

In truth, the Musketeers were the most junior and least recognized of the Royal Bodyguard Units, neither as glamorous as the Griffin Knights, nor as accomplished as the Manticore Squadron. Their purpose was to supplement the two senior branches of the Royal Guard and provide guards that could follow the Queen or Princess anywhere they might be needed.

This last condition had led to the recruitment of several dozen young women and the raising of a female branch of the Royal Guard. Uniformly born of commoner families, no Noble line would allow their daughters to serve in the Queen's Guards, but it was considered a high honor by many Commoners. And drawn mostly from the daughters of loyal retainers, Agnes herself was an exception who had worked tirelessly to reach her current position.

Under her guidance, the women of the Firearms Squadron had earned a reputation as some of the most finely trained and disciplined soldiers in all of Tristain. Lacking magic, and perhaps not a match for their male counterparts in raw strength or endurance, they had nonetheless _earned_ the respect they were due as a skilled and reliable force at the Crown's disposal.

These unique quality had singularly suited the Firearms Squadron to its recent missions. Nobody expected young women, _girls_, to be acting at the behest of Queen and country in rooting out the spies and traitors among the nobility. Nor for them to be competent fighters. More than one unsuspecting fool had witnessed Olivia's skill with a knife or Samantha's superb marksmanship, or simply felt Agnes' sword as they were run through the chest in their attempts to flee punishment.

But even so, there were limits to this disguise. There were locations where even they might appear suspicious or out of place, and they were unique enough among the Royal Guards that they might be recognized if unlucky.

What's more, their lack of Noble title meant that even at the behest of the Crown, they could not not bare official witness at trial. Nor could they rely on their own mages to aid them, instead being forced to request help from the Mage Knights, help that was not always forthcoming as the more glamorous ranks of the Royal Guard were desperately needed elsewhere. Where else to turn to for help that could be trusted?

But now, the Founder had seen fit to lend her a helping hand. The Blue haired girl who had returned to her book, looked up, meeting Agnes' own eyes. If memory served, she was a mage of exceptional skill, a Gallian Chevalier. And that was also the problem, a _Gallian_. Could a foreigner be trusted in this matter. The Princess had thought so, and so apparently did her trusted friend.

Beside her was a Germanian, a Zerbst in point of fact. Rarely on the best of terms with Tristain, the Germanians could only benefit from Tristain remaining able to defend itself, and thus shore up their weak coastal border.

Then of course, there was the cause of all of this. A Valliere, her loyalty to the crown above suspicion even now. All three were mages, something that none of Agnes' own subordinates could boast. Their talents, and status though she loathed to admit it, might prove useful in concluding the investigation.

Finally there were the Faeries. Were they Loyal? Irrelevant, Tristain's security was in their own best interest. But were they reliable? She tried to size the two up but was at a loss. How did one measure the qualities of a . . . a hummingbird girl and a cat-woman? But she could see how they might be of use. And the Pixie in particular had ample reason to help.

"Our investigation is currently at a standstill. De'Martou may be a brute, but his masters are not. They've stubbornly refused to reveal themselves. A more proactive stance is needed. Miss Zerbst and Miss . . . Tabitha are both of foreign countenance. They may rouse suspicion, but it should be of the wrong type to alert de'Martou to our investigations. And their affinities may naturally lend themselves to this work should magic become involved." And hopefully it would not. Agnes was not in the habit of ever letting that force come into play if she could help it.

"de'Martou still holds some property, a run down country house not far from the Capital, kept from the days of his father and grandfather." Agnes said.

"Told you so!" The Zerbst girl sang sweetly.

"Investigating this house without raising an alarm has proven quite difficult." But, an idea had occurred to her just now. "Thankfully, one of you is well suit to examining de'Martou's home while leaving him non the wiser."

All eyes turned to the Pixie. "I can do that." She said without a moment of hesitation. She didn't lack for courage and conviction. Agnes couldn't help but allow herself to feel some kinship with the girl.

"Besides that, what else can we do?" Louise urged.

"There is one other place that we've been planning to stake out." Agnes admitted. Initially, when she had learned of the place, she had intended to use several of her subordinates to eavesdrop for information, slipping them in with the serving staff, but the eccentric proprietor had frustratingly disapproved of every last one of Agnes' soldiers as well as Agnes herself and had refused to hire them, claiming they 'Did not fit the aesthetic' of his cafe. She was woman enough to admit that she had seethed at the comment.

Shaking her head, she went on. "There is a location that de'Martou tends to frequent. He has been seen arriving and meeting with several other suspicious characters. An establishment on the edge of the Commoner District."


	9. Spoiled Morning

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 4 - Part 2

"Oy, waiter, can I get mine to go?" Tsuboi Ryotaro, the swordsman Klein, waved a hand from the back of the line crowding around the counter of the small cafe located in the south western corner of the market square. Normally, he really liked to take the mornings easy, but he didn't have that luxury today.

Day of Void was technically his day off, but he had half a dozen errands to run before he could even think about putting his feet up. All he wanted was to get something in his stomach and get through his list before noon.

Stuffing a piece of egg on toast into his mouth, Klein squeezed past a business of Gnomes setting up shop for the day at one of the market kiosks, and made at a jog towards his first destination, the shop of an armorer who had reopened his business in one of the storefronts overlooking the market.

A tall sign describing a stylized helmet sat outside the shop, marking that it had opened for the day.

The doorbell chimed as Klein stepped out of the sun and into the shade of the shop interior. A bored looking Imp boy sitting on a stool behind the counter, looked up from his book. "Ah, Klein, you're back."

"Yeah. Sorry to hit you guys up so early in the morning." He rubbed at the back of his head. He knew he'd asked for a tall order to be filled very quickly, but the Gnome smith who owned the shop had thought it could be done.

"Grishim will be with you in just a minute." The boy said, hopping down from his stool and knocked heavily on the thick wooden door that separated the workshop from the storefront.

He hammered again a little harder. "Hey, Grishim. Grishim!" He rolled his eyes as the muted sounds continued from within the workshop. Finally swinging open the door, "Hey Dad! We've got Klein here waiting for his order. Is it done yet?"

Klein peered past the boy and into the back room where heavyset, sweat soaked Gnome was busying himself over a small furnace. Small in this case being about the size of Klein's torso. A sullen, orange-red glow was cast from the contents as the Gnome manhandled a long lever, causing the molten alloy to slowly pore into a ceramic mold. Even at this distance, Klein could feel the heat.

Only when he had finished poring and returned the furnace to its upright position, did the Gnome turn to face them. Removing his mask, the man frowned. "What'd I say about when we're working?"

"Sorry, Grishim." The Imp boy corrected himself. "Try to keep your ears open a little more."

Klein winced, he'd heard this guy was a bit of a LARPer. Well, everyone needed a way to get by. For some people, that was trying to pretend nothing had happened, that they were exactly the same person they'd been before, just with wings. Others had started to embrace their role, living more as their character than themselves.

Grishim seemed to fall closer to the latter than the former.

"So, back already." The Gnome noted as he climbed up the steps into the storefront, one arm behind his back. "You're certainly an impatient one."

"Ah, Sorry!" Klein grinned sheepishly. "It's just that this is the only time I'm free. I have training the whole rest of the week, which is why I wanted it as soon as I could. You were able to fix it, right?"

The Gnome chuckled as he brought his arm out from behind his back, huge hand holding both of Klein's forearm guards.

"Oh-ho! Nice, nice!" Klein complimented as he examined the work. "Are you sure these are mine?"

When he'd brought them in, Klein been sure they'd been wrecked beyond repair, victims of a too close run in with the remains of a juvenile Caustic Dragon and a biochemistry that was best described as Volatile. By the time Kindjal and Calcifer had managed to pull the spitting, smoking, pieces of armor off of him, they'd been eaten down to their amalgam alloy backing. Klein still had the chemical burns to show for it. Now they looked as good as new, better.

"The outside leather was a complete write off, so were the backing plates. So I ripped out the stitching and reused what I could." Grishim explained. "I replaced the guard plates and used new leather for the outside of the left one." He took the left arm guard back from Klein and thumbed the dark brown surface. "That's Earth Dragon hide from the locals. Toughened up a lot better than I thought it would. Other than that, I recast the backing plates and redid the stitching. Why don't you try'm on?"

Klein was only too happy to do so, working his wrists and fingers to try out the range of motion. He only wished he'd brought his sword along.

"You did good work Grishim." Klein grinned. "So, what do I owe you?"

The Gnome settled on the stool behind his counter, looking thoughtful. "Well, let's see here. I can discount what I was able to reuse. Count the old metal as materials . . ." He trailed off as he did some simple mental arithmetic. For a dedicated VRMMO player, running the numbers would be trivial. "Lets say seventy five added to the seventy five down payment.

"One fifty?" Klein whistled slowly.

It didn't sound like much to Klein, but it was in reality a hefty sum in Tristain. He wasn't the only one who was still getting used to things either as the Fae began to adopt the Tristanian currency out of convenience, prices were fluctuating daily as people worked out what materials and their labor were worth. Some things got cheaper, while others climbed in price. One fifty was a pretty impressive sum, all things considered.

He supposed he should just accept it and hurry on to his next errand, but maybe he'd been hanging out with Agil for too long.

"You know, the rest of my squad is kitted out with legendary level gear, if anything else gets beaten up, I'm pretty sure they'll want a good armorer to do the repairs and replacements. Someone they know won't stiff them."

The Gnome gave him a suspicious look, but Klein held his ground, praying silently that his smile wouldn't crack.

"I've got plenty of business from the Lancers already." Grishim said with a small wave of his hand.

"I'm with the skirmishers." Klein offered quickly, seeing his opening. If Grishim was much of a businessman, he'd be happy to expand into untapped clientele.

"The Skirmisher squads?" Grishim rubbed his chin. "This is pretty high level gear for Skirmishers. Did Mortimer keep you guys for special assignments."

Special winced. He'd heard about those. Apparently, Mortimer hadn't been the nicest of Faction Leaders back in that other world. More than once he'd employed well equipped hit teams to eliminate particularly bothersome players, or to complete quests that were unsuitable for larger raid parties. He'd even used Spriggan assassins to help take out the leaders of the other Factions.

Thankfully, Mortimer hadn't done anything like that since their fantasy had become reality, but it still had earned him a reputation for being a cold blooded lizard, among less flattering things.

"Nah, nothing like that." Klein shook his head. "We were all in on the Newcastle Raid."

Grishim and his son fell silent. "Newcastle?" The Gnome rocked back, an action that seemed like it should be followed by an avalanche. "You mean you were part of Dunkirk?"

Klein scratched again at the back of his head. Sure it was a big deal, but he hadn't wanted to boast about it. Going out and helping to take people's lives wasn't really anything praiseworthy, even if he'd helped to save lives in the process.

"We were on the walls for most of it." Sans some time spent airborne, getting barbecued by an asshole traitor. "That's where I got my current gear. Honestly, I'd hate to downgrade because of a stupid mistake."

Grishim nodded to himself, setting his hands back down on the counter. "I'll tell you what. Let's make it fifty. That's one twenty five total."

Well, now Klein knew how much the Gnome had planned to gouge him. That was a pretty good, no, a really good deal. They shook on it and Klein produced a stack of five, fat, golden coins, his entire allowance for equipment repairs. At least he hadn't had to dig into his own salary.

The Imp swept up the pieces, examining each carefully, Tristanian Coins bearing the mark of the Crown, before hurrying back into the workshop to deposit them in the strongbox.

"Thanks again for getting it done so quick." Klein commented. Man, they even felt like the old ones!

"It's not a problem." Grishim grunted. The huge man paused for a moment before leaning in. "And by the way, thanks for everything you and your squad have been doing. The mob patrols, and the fighting." He looked back at the still open workshop door. "I'm grateful that there are people who volunteered, for Milnik's sake."

Klein gave the man a sympathetic look. "Yeah, I got ya." That was half of why he was doing this after all. This World didn't need any Black Cats if he could help it.

Grishim gave him a pat on the back, a sensation rather like being hit by baseball bat made out of sausage before seeing Klein out the door. Standing in the street's morning traffic, it was several minutes before Klein actually remembered what he was doing. The swordsman dug into his pocket and marked off his first errand.

Next was, he scanned down the list, ah, right, he'd told Enya he'd pick something up for her at the Academy. Then he had a couple of letters to mail back to Gaddan, checking up on the other former members of Fuurinkazan. And after that, he needed to do some maintenance work on his Katana.

A real blade sure did require a lot more care than a digital one, but his life depended on his sword, so he'd be an idiot not to dedicate time to it. Luckily, the skills that had been crammed into his brain to supplement almost two years of intensively trained muscle memory, had included a fair bit about how to actually take care of a Katana. Not as a show piece, but as a real weapon.

Setting off across the market square once more, Klein was nearly gone when he heard a voice calling above the crowds. "And can I please get that to go?"

Klein turned his head, and did a double take. Stepping out of the cafe he'd hit up earlier, a Sylph was busily rapping her breakfast in a handkerchief so that she could keep her hands clean while she ate on the go.

"Ohr? Gud'mrninig Krein." Leafa tried to say through a bite of her breakfast. Green eyes blinking with mild surprise. She swallowed. "Uhm, Klein-san?"

Klein shook his head. It was what she was wearing. It wasn't that Leafa was doing anything to stand out, but the effect was concerning. 'Damn it! His _little sister_!' More importantly. '_His_ little sister.' Quick, think of something else!

"New wardrobe?" Klein asked. 'Real smooth.'

"Oh!" Leafa looked down at herself. "Yeah, KoKo-san helped me pick it out." She turned so that he could get a good look.

It wasn't that it was revealing, just the opposite. It looked a lot like a more practical version of her ALfheim fantasy clothing. Sturdy, white, cotton pants, white blouse, and long green jacket closed at the waist, rugged looking leather boots, hair pulled back by a utilitarian cord. With her sword resting on her hip, she didn't look like a kid playing a fantasy game anymore. She looked very serious, very professional, very . . . _mature_. 'Damn it!'

"I thought this would be better. It's more comfortable to fly in." Leafa explained. "And besides," she looked pleased, "It's more appropriate for my job."

"Right, you're part of the Watch now, aren't you." Klein recalled.

After the big mob clearing operations had started to wind down. And more importantly, as volunteers with useful skills began to bow out to pursue different forms of employment, or else join the defense forces, there had remained a need to maintain the mob patrols at a reduced level, and also provide for the Faeries to police themselves and deal with disputes with the Tristanian who lived close to the Faerie settlements.

Thus had been born the City Watch Service, a natural evolution of the mob patrols, to preserve peace and order in an around the Faerie settlements, whether the problems were caused by monsters or men.

It wasn't particularly high risk work, though there was fighting involved from time to time. Mobs moving into cleared areas from deeper in the wilds, bandits returning to their natural habitat now that the roads were once again safe, and the occasional Orc tribe being driven out by something worse. Mostly, they patrolled the roads and country around the Faerie cities and mediated disputes between Fae and native Tristanians visiting the area.

Privately, Klein was thankful on behalf of her brother. The Watch seemed to fit Leafa like a glove. It wasn't too dangerous, but still utilized her skills. She already had a little bit of experience working with the native Tristanians, and her blade and spell craft were more than good enough to defend herself against mobs and unsavory characters. Moreover, it gave her something purposeful to point to and be proud of. No doubt it was the reason for the sudden improvement in her mood.

Leafa nodded, smiling brightly. "Yeah. Actually, I'm heading down to the gate to meet up with my partner for patrol. We've got the roads all the way west of the Academy today."

Klein nodded approvingly. "Nice. I've got business with one of the Professors, mind if I tag along to the gate?"

Leafa actually seemed to have to give the question some thought. "Well, we're on official business, so I'm not sure if it would be alright. We're not supposed to get distracted." She struck her open palm with a fist. "But since you're with the defense forces, I guess it's allowed."

Klein stared at the Sylph, and this time it wasn't because of her clothes. At least she was taking things seriously. Maybe a little too seriously. But soon enough she was back to her normal self, talking between bites of her sandwich . . . omelet . . . thing. 'Didn't see that on the menu.' Klein noted to himself. Which reminded him.

"Don't you usually eat breakfast at home?" Klein asked.

Leafa shrugged her shoulders. "Usually, but Asuna was up late with Onii-chan and I had to leave early this morning, so I thought I'd take advantage of my first wages." She tilted her head. "You know, this wasn't what I expected my first job to be like." She smiled, amused. "But I turns out I'm pretty good at it."

"Oh?" Klein frowned. "The fighting too?"

Some of the Sylphs enthusiasm evaporated. "Well, it's okay against mobs since they're dangerous animals. And against bandits, we usually just spot them and report them to a foot patrol. But we haven't had any of those since I joined. Mostly it's just making sure things stay quiet and handling any complaints. Little things, but sometimes we have to give someone an earful for being unreasonable."

"Heh. Sounds like the class rep when I was in high school." Klein observed. "Man, she was always butting into everyone's business, getting on everyone's case, a complete pain in the ass, and . . ." He stopped as he realized that Leafa's posture and expression had changed. She looked annoyed. "Ah, sorry, sorry, I'm just remembering my own lousy track record!"

Leafa looked at him as if she was judging whether or not he was telling the truth. Didn't women have some sort of sixth sense for that sort of thing? Like they had a more sensitive sense of smell or something?

He might have been convinced at that moment that such was the case as Leafa sighed and let her shoulders sag. "Its kind of funny, you know?"

"Eh?"

"People talking, and making deals, and arguing. It feels so normal. Is that right?" Leafa fixed him with an uncertain look, patiently waiting for his reply. Time for him to answer with his professional opinion.

"It seems pretty strange when you put it that way." This was a hell of a time to get philosophical. But what the heck. If Kirito could dispense the Wisdom of the Ages from time to time, then Klein could at least take a crack at it. "I guess . . . normal is just what you expect every morning when you get up."

"Like waking up in a fantasy land with Faerie wings." Leafa mused.

Or a floating castle with a hundred floors. But Klein didn't say that. It was sort of spooky. Even in that virtual world, with its constant reminders of falseness, there had been times when Aincrad seemed more real than the world he'd been born into. And not just because nobody wanted to think about what was happening to their bodies IRL.

In one respect, Kayaba Akihiko had succeeded magnificently. He'd created a world of profound stories, and inhabited it with real lives. A person couldn't live like that for two years and not start to think of it as reality.

Then, what was going to happen to them if they ended up stuck here? But Klein knew that wasn't a subject he should spend too much time thinking about. There were a lot of ways for it to get depressing very quickly.

They ran into a crowd of Faeries just off of Arrun's main street, all gathered closely around one of the hastily erected message boards. The day's news was already up, a half dozen handwritten sheets of paper reporting noteworthy events in and around Arrun and the Kingdom at large. For the information starved Children of the Digital Age, it was like an oasis to a man dying of thirst.

And gauging by the voices around the message boards, the morning's news wasn't good. Catching a glimpse of the headlines, Klein grimaced. "Another murder. Double homicide in Freelia." He turned back to Leafa and noticed that she didn't seem surprised.

"Onii-chan told us last night. He's heading for Freelia right now to investigate along with Argo-san and Caramella-san." Leafa admitted when he pressed. "It's why Asuna was so tired this morning, she's worried sick."

"I don't blame her. I would be too." Klein agreed.

In fact, he didn't need to be Kirito's wife to be worried. That was three murders in three days. A brief chill ran down his spine. One murder might have just been an argument getting out of hand, but three meant something was happening. Klein silently began to pray that it was just one lone lunatic. Someone insane and uncharismatic. Someone who couldn't bring out the worst in other people. They didn't need a new Laughing Coffin.

"Actually, I'm surprised Asuna would let him go without her." Klein noted.

"I think she wanted to." Leafa said. "But she didn't." The Sylph stopped dead in her tracks. "Klein-san, you're Asuna-chan's friend too, right?"

"Like I said before, I knew her in Aincrad, but not nearly as closely as your brother." He breathed. Although, he had been getting a bit closer to her in the past couple of weeks. A consequence of hanging around with Kirito after he got off shift.

Leafa gave him an uncertain look. "But you'd look out for her and Onii-chan, right?"

"Well, yeah." Klein said automatically, like he even needed to think about it. If only those two weren't so good at leaving everyone else in the dust.

Leafa began walking again and then talking again. First slowly, and then picking up speed. "I don't think Asuna is doing what she wants right now, and it's making her unhappy."

"And what makes you think that?" Kirito had been a bit tense last time he'd seen him, but Asuna had seemed fine. Though like he'd said, he knew Kirito a lot better than he knew Asuna.

The Sylphs smile was halfway between pained and embarrassed. "I guess I have some experience with trying to ignore my own feelings." There was a story there, Klein was pretty sure, but he got the feeling it was off limits. "It's like Asuna is holding back and hates it."

"Kirito-kun has been pretty worried about her. Liz and Argo-san too." Klein noted. "She might just not want to upset them." Though normally he would have expected Asuna to just do what she pleased regardless. She seemed a lot meeker these last couple of weeks. Maybe some of her IRL personality had started to supplant her normal assertiveness. He just couldn't imagine the forceful young woman who'd led the KoB ever letting anything get in her way.

"Wait, didn't Lord Mortimer try to scout her for something?" Klein asked aloud.

"Un." Leafa nodded. "I think he still wants her help, but she asked for a little bit of time to think about it."

Very strange, Klein thought. Did Kirito know about this? He was a pretty observant kid most of the time, but he did have his blind spots. "Well, I think all you can do is talk to her about it. Maybe Asuna-san wants to get away from that sort of life?"

Being a guild leader wasn't easy, and Klein's guild had been on the smaller side. He couldn't imagine what the stress would have been like running a medium or large guild, or Cardinal forbid a monster guild like the Army. Thinker had Klein's undying respect for his talent.

"Maybe." Leafa agreed reluctantly. "But if that's the case, why is she keeping Lord Mortimer's letter of recommendation." The Sylph's face turned red. "Ah, I mean, I saw her rereading it yesterday is all!" She let out a breath. "Anyways, thanks for listening to all of this."

"Hey, it's not a problem." Klein said easily. "If you ever need to let off some steam, I'm here for you and your brother whenever you need me. It's not good to let it all get pent up and not do anything with it, you know?" Leafa tilted her head, giving him an odd look. "Uh, what now?"

"Nothing." The Sylph became a little more relaxed, regaining her normally carefree smile. "I was just thinking, you're a pretty mature guy Klein."

"Uh, thanks?" Hearing it from a fifteen year old, he supposed it was a compliment, like telling someone they weren't incompetent.

The relaxed atmosphere lasted almost all the way to the gate before either noticed that something was amiss. The main gates of Arrun were usually busy from a very early hour. Mob hunters left early to start combing the forests for their quotas, and with the influx of money into the city, more and more traders had been stopping to set up shop at a makeshift bazaar, selling spices, teas, and other goods that the Faerie's couldn't produce for themselves.

Instead, the foot traffic was barely more than a trickle, and almost nobody could be seen taking flight. Then they heard the distant shouting.

Leafa had broken into a run before Klein could stop her. "Come on!" She shouted, conjuring her wings and gliding down hill the last thirty meters to the gate. Klein was right behind her, aftera all, someone had to keep her out of trouble.

A crowd of Faeries and visiting Tristanians were gathered on the far side of the gate, exchanging muttered comments among themselves. From what Klein could pick out, the tone was growing more hostile by the second. Not good!

"M-maybe the 'ABC' are right." Klein heard from one Leprechauns say as he pushed through the throng of people behind Leafa. The crowd was tightly packed, both horizontally, and vertically, with Faeries fighting to get a view of the disturbance.

"She's violated Sir Wetherby's property. It's only right that she make amends." A portly trader tugged at his mustache. Somehow, the man didn't seem convinced.

A Leprechaun beside the nobleman looked displeased. "Come on Hiram, we both know this is bogus!"

"Can't the watch do something." An Undine girl rung her hands nervously.

Her partner, or maybe her boyfriend, a taller, silver haired Undine pointed. "Look, they're trying. Those Nobles are just being difficult."

"Rio said something like this was going to happen." Another Faerie, a Salamander grunted with displeasure. "Lord Mortimer should have had more say in the negotiations. Not that flighty Sylph."

Klein didn't hear the reply to that last comment as the crowd parted ahead and he stumbled after Leafa into the center of the bazaar that had been setup just outside the outer walls of Arrun. He took stock.

Everyone's attention was on a small gathering of Tristanians in the midst of a heated argument with a wiry Undine backed by two bigger Caits in lightweight body armor. Sitting between the two parties, hands on knees, a frightened Gnome woman was shaking as she tried not to cry. Most of the people, Fae and Tristanian, were standing well back, watching to see how things would go.

Leafa took one look at the situation, and in a very Leafa-like fashion, charged right in. It must have run in the family. "What is the meaning of this!" The Sylph swordswoman demanded.

"Ah, Leafa-san!" The Undine spun around.

"Irmin." Leafa greeted shortly. "What's going on here. We can't have a disruption like this!"

"Well, erm, that is, I . . ." The Undine watchman shrugged weakly. "It seems we have a bit of crime on our hands. A theft to be exact."

"Theft?" Leafa grimaced. "What did they take?"

The Undine raised his hands helplessly. "Not them, this one here." He gestured to the Gnome.

"Yes, her." The man at the lead of the Tristanian group declared loudly. Tall, snobbish, axe nosed. "She was given shelter last night at our master's home after she lost her way in the dark. And then Sir Wetherby's generosity was most heinously exploited when she stole from the good Chevalier. We found evidence of the thievery and managed to catch her only just now before she could vanish into the city."

"Irmin," Leafa asked calmly, "Did you find anything?"

"Well . . ." Irmin grimaced. "We checked her pack when she was stopped. Most of it was pretty ordinary, some blankets and spare clothes. But . . . She did have these." He gestured to a pair of silver candlestick holders and a stack of silver plates, all polished to a mirror finish.

"Those are heirlooms of Sir Wetherby's family." The lead retainer added sternly. "They were presented to our master as a gift when he was elevated to the rank of Chevalier in her Majesty's service. This cretin stole them with hardly a thought for the generosity Sir Wetherby had shown her."

The Gnome woman mumbled something so softly that it almost would have gone unnoticed if not for Leafa and her acute hearing.

"What was that?" Leafa asked, kneeling down beside her, and then more gently. "Please tell me, it must be important, right?"

The woman bit her lip, she looked almost too frightened to speak. "I didn't steal anything." She mumbled. "He said to take them." She hugged herself tightly.

The lead retainer snorted derisively. "Sir Wetherby is a man of means, but I'd hardly think he could hand over a ten pound of silver to a complete stranger." The others nodded in stern agreement.

"B-but . . ." The girl began to stutter.

"Enough of your lies!" The retainers voice carried firmly. "Now then, do we have the cooperation of the Watch? The evidence shows that she is guilty of theft."

"Hey now . . ." Klein began, maybe it was his overdeveloped sense of chivalry, but it didn't really seem like the woman was being allowed to tell her side of the story. But before he could say more, a glare from Leafa silenced him.

"So then. What does Sir Wetherby plan to do?" Leafa asked, one hand gently patting the Gnome on the back as she started to cry quietly.

Looking smugly pleased to see Leafa cooperating, the retained answered. "My Master has thoroughly read the charter that governs relations with you Fae. In matters of theft, some form of punishment for the accused and compensation for the wronged party is demanded, correct? Normally, a thief could expect her hands to be broken for her first offense." The Gnome whimpered softly.

Klein tensed up, he could feel the crowd growing on edge, and these idiots had to feel it too. Didn't they? There was no way people were just going to stand by if these men tried to do something like that. Pack Mentality could be a scary thing and this woman was one of their own.

"But sir Wetherby has decided that such measures are much too extreme." The retainer continued. "Your Leaders willing, the thief will be made to work off the value of the stolen items as a servant in Sir Wetherby's service. This is an acceptable punishment, wouldn't you say?"

"I told him I didn't want to work for him." The Gnome mumbled quietly.

"It's going to be okay." Leafa said, rising back to her feet. "I'm sorry, but this it a little bit too much for us. It should be alright if we ask for someone to come down from Arrun tower, right?"

The retainer smiled in good humor. "Yes, that's quite acceptable. Thank you for your cooperation."

"I guess you'll want your silverware back right away." She added.

"It would be appreciated. They're quite valuable. Nearly pure silver and superb workmanship." The retainer sounded all to pleased as Irmin began to hand the candlesticks to man at his right.

Maybe the Undine was a little careless, or maybe his palms were sweaty. Maybe people just messed up more when they were handling something expensive. He let go of one of the candlesticks a moment too early. The second retainer cursed, fumbling as the silver dinner piece fell, striking the ground with a metallic -thud-.

"You bumbling fool!" The first retainer shouted, grabbing hold of Irmin by his caller. "Look what your carelessness has done!"

Klein was already stepped up to intervene. This was going from bad to worse, and they couldn't let it escalate into a riot. There were a lot of mages, and lot of Faeries in the surrounding crowd, and it wasn't at all clear what would happen next.

That was when something interesting happened.

Instead of trying to help her partner, Leafa leaned down and grabbed the fallen candlestick before the second retainer could retrieve it. She stood back up, examining it closely, and then flicked the surface with one slender nail, holding it close to her ear.

The first retainer had let go of Irmin's collar by now and gone noticeably pale.

Leafa frowned and without any further prompting, flicked the surface of the candlestick again and listened to the dull wringing. "That's odd."

"What?" Klein asked.

The Sylph lowered her voice. "This doesn't sound like silver at all."

"What? Are you sure?" Irmin leaned in, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as he examined the candlestick in Leafa's hand.

"We get payed in silver coins, so I know the sound. They make a really beautiful ringing when they're struck together. But these don't do that." Her green eyes glinted dangerously. "You know, it sounds a lot more like a five hundred yen coin."

"Oy, aren't those made from copper and nickel?" Klein grunted.

"Yeah, like costume jewelry." Leafa agreed. Klein and Irmin traded looks.

The look of apology on the Undine watchman's face turned thin and unamused. "I do believe this calls things into question." Irmin no longer sounded frightened or unsure of himself. He smiled unkindly. "Perhaps Sir Wetherby was mistaken about his family heirlooms?"

"Well, that is . . ." The retainer took a step back, lips moving clumsily. "Perhaps they were switched." He offered, the confidence and indignation from moments ago draining away.

"Uhuh." Leafa said unconvinced. "So, I think what might be best is that we hold on to _these_, and then Lady Sakuya can have a good laugh with Princess Henrietta about how one of her Knights mistook fake silver candlesticks for the real thing."

"The Princess?" The retainer whispered. It looked like he was just now starting to see how badly he'd miscalculated. Then again, it had almost worked.

"I hear she and Lady Sakuya are good friends." Klein crossed his arms wisely. "I bet they're looking for something to talk about over tea."

"With biscuits." Irmin said.

"And cake." Leafa added. "I bet it'll be a good long talk."

"Because obviously Sir Wetherby must had just made a simple mistake." Irmin observed diplomatically.

"Yeah, a complete mistake." Klein agreed. "I mean, anyone could make it, they look a whole lot like silver to me." They just weren't. Which had probably been the whole point. Klein felt a burning desire to deliver some old style Justice, but turning this into a confrontation wouldn't do anyone any good.

The retainer finally wizened up enough to realize that they were being offered a way out that might not completely humiliate themselves and their Lord. "I suppose we may have acted hastily." He spoke up more loudly so that the Gnome woman and the crowd could hear. "Miss, please forgive our mistake, it appears that we were overzealous on his behalf. These were indeed the ones that our Master intended to give you. Beg pardon our indiscretion, and if there is anything we can do to make right," the man removed his hat, bowing deeply, "We will of course do so post haste."

"Leave." Leafa instructed, voice flat. Her hand was resting on the hilt of her sword. Klein was worried she really was going to draw.

The Tristanians didn't need to be told twice, turning, and with as much dignity as a group of retreating cowards could muster, remounting their horses and riding off.

Leafa held her glare until they were well down the road, vanishing in the dust kicked up by their mounts. Once she was sure they wouldn't turn back, she sank to her knees.

"Leafa?" Klein kneeled down beside her.

"I'm alright." She said. She didn't look it at all. In fact, she looked sort of like she'd spent a whole day dealing with his old boss back in Japan, that was to say, tired and angry after a day of being shouted at. "Just give me a second."

"You did good." Klein patted her on the back. Really, she had. That could have turned into a nasty situation, but she'd managed to keep everything under control with some quick thinking.

"Your friend is right." Irmin added. "I'm really sorry I wasn't able to handle that on my own. I guess my NEETs tendencies came out, huh sempai?"

The crowd was beginning to slowly disperse, people commenting about what they had just seen. Nobody but the watchmen and Klein had been close enough to hear the final part of the exchange, but that wouldn't stop the speculation, in fact, it would probably help it along. People loved to make up their own stories, after all.

"Excuse me Miss." Klein turned around, noticing the fat Tristanian from earlier leaning over the still sobbing Gnome woman. A handkerchief was held in one hand. "I'm sorry for not speaking out sooner. I hope you're alright."

"Moving in now that the coast is clear, Hiram? Real brave." The small, hawkish, blue haired Leprechaun who had been speaking with him sniped.

"It's good for business, Kruznev. I've no interest in helping along bad relations with you people." The trader grunted in a way that caused his whole stomach to jiggle.

The Gnome's sobbing stopped suddenly, replaced by giggling that left both men at a loss. Wiping a tear from her eye, the woman looked up at them with a mirthful smile. "I'm sorry, you just looked really . . . really funny when you did that?"

The Nobleman opened his mouth, face aghast before stuffing the handkerchief into her hand, grumbling indignantly to himself.

"Are you going to be alright, Miss?" Klein asked as he crouched down beside her. "It sounds like you're having a pretty tough day." No one needed to get up to crap like this, not this early.

Klein got a good look at her for the first time. Short, light blonde hair, big aqua eyes, and warm, earthen skin. Like most Gnome women, she was more cute than beautiful with a figure that lay on the generous side of things, simply built on the scale of a Gnome. Klein guessed she would have been half a head taller than him if she'd been standing, and judging by the brass knuckles that hung from her pants pocket, she'd been some sort of hand to hand build to support her magic in ALO.

"Un." The woman nodded. "We were flying back from Tau Tona, and . . . and it got dark. I used to fly at night a lot, so I thought it would be okay if I went ahead. But it was cloudy, and I got lost. Then Wetherby-san found me and gave me directions, but now I don't think he was really trying to help me." She pulled her knees up close to herself. "Irene-sensei is going to be really angry with me for leaving without permission."

'Permission?' He grimaced.

Klein felt himself going cold as he started to put the pieces together. "Miss, uhm . . . The name's Klein." Klein offered kindly. "Do you mind telling me yours."

She sniffed, wiping at her eyes with the handkerchief that the Tristanian trader had lent her. "Rika. My name's Rika."

"That's a pretty name, Rika-chan." Leafa said as she crouched down beside Klein. "My name is Leafa, I'm with the city watch. Ah, Rika-chan, if it's okay for me to ask. How old are you?"

Rika looked away, squirming as she mulled over her reply. "I'm ten . . . next week."

Klein cringed, that young?! Why had she even been playing ALO? Stealing time on an older siblings account maybe? And he had thought Leafa was bad. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Hey, now, you said you were with other people right. Do you have family, or someone you're staying with?"

She nodded again. "I live at Arrun Home, I know the way from here." She rose to her feet, hefting a traveling bag.

"Irmin, can you and everyone else handle the patrol on your own today." Leafa asked, taking Rika's arm. "I'm going to make sure she makes it back okay." She lowered her voice. "Then I'm going to go lodge report with Lady Sakuya's office. Something needs to be done about this."

"Right." The Undine nodded. "We'll do that."

"I'll catch you later Klein." Leafa bid him farewell, making her way with Rika back towards the city streets, the Gnome girl pulling Leafa along like the child she was inside, even though she stood head and shoulders taller than the Sylph.

Klein reached up to rub tiredly at his face. It couldn't be past nine-o-clock and the day had already killed his good mood.


	10. Freelia on the Coast

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 4 - Part 3

"So that's it, eh?" Caramella asked.

"Yep." Argo answered, popping another raisin into her mouth as she sat atop a small outcropping overlooking the coast.

Seeing Freelia for the first time reminded Kirito of a promise he had made to himself back when ALfheim was still a game, between journeying towards the World Tree and desperately hoping to find Asuna, to eventually visit all of the ALO Home Cities. He just wished his first visit to the Cait Syth Capital could have been under happier circumstances.

Kirito looked over to where the Swordswoman tapped her foot impatiently, waiting along with Argo and Abigail for her flight magic to recharge enough for the last leg of the trip. None of them were in any mood to get wet.

When the Transition had struck Tristain, realizing the environments of ALfheim within the Kingdom's borders, at first, the blending of Tristain and ALfheim had appeared almost random. But as the Faeries and their new neighbors began to interact and venture into the changed countryside, a set of priorities that determined what had been overwritten by the transition and what had been left untouched had become apparent. And where there was a pattern, there was something for Argo to study.

The Information Broker had spent a fair amount of time deciphering the underlying rules of the Transition, labeling the results of her research the _Tentative Guidelines of Ontological Actualization: Don't Worry, It's Argo's Metaphysical Theory_.

How she had ever managed to write that while keeping a straight face was one of the imponderable mysteries of the Universe, but in short, it laid out some simple ground rules by which the Transition appeared to have been governed.

First. No feature of ALfheim had materialized in such a way as to displace an existing settlement. This rule also extended to a lesser extent to fields, mines, and other areas of active human cultivation.

Second. wherever possible, the features of ALfheim that had carried over from the Game World had appeared at the same points in relation to one another as they had existed within ALfheim's virtual geography. Thus, Gaddan had appeared roughly thirty kilometers South East of Sylvain, and both cities had materialized approximately seventy kilometers from Arrun.

Third. All former Safe Zones and Player Spawn Points, along with most of ALfheim's underground dungeons and floating islands, had materialized without incident. Around half of the surface dungeons had also materialized either in whole or in part. Important portions of each of ALfheim's major playing fields, each with their own flora, fauna, and geographical features, had mixed evenly with the Tristanian countryside, resulting a bizarre patchwork of the two worlds.

There were a number of other guidelines based on factors such as Quest Significance and number of Features within proximity, but in Argo's own words, these three rules were 'The only ones I'll put my seal on sa!'

The end result had been a disturbingly logical mixing of ALfheim and Tristain that left almost no doubt in Kirito's mind that whatever force had controlled the Transition had possessed some form of intelligence along with a truly awesome amount of power. What did that mean about this world? And what did it mean for getting home?

Kirito thought about all of this as he breathed in the ocean air, and looked out across the beaches of Tristain's western border, to an island sitting just off the coast.

Freelia was unique among the settlements that the Faeries had brought with them. It was the only Faerie City to have not impinged directly upon the Kingdom of Tristain, instead appearing about a kilometer off the coast.

Each of the Faerie Cities and towns had altered their local environment in some way in order to accommodate themselves. Orlein's Crescent Bay had become the Crescent Lake of Eastern Tristain, and the great stone ruins that formed Gaddan's outer defensive works, had arrived with the Salamander City itself. Freelia had brought along its own island.

The Isle of Freelia was a little over six kilometers long and two and a half kilometers wide at its widest point, roughly evenly divided between beach, fields, hills, and the city itself.

It seemed the Salamanders didn't have a monopoly on the Fortress City idea, judging by the tall, sandstone walls that ringed Freelia and divided it into three concentric districts. From this distance, the City resembled a very wide, three level wedding cake built atop a hill on the seaward end of the island and topped by its keep-like Tower.

"I don't believe it." Caramella muttered. "It's Minas Tirith."

"Minas what?" Abigail asked.

"You know, Lord of the Rings, JRR Tolkien . . . Peter Jackson? Ian McKellen?" The Swordswoman nudged. "You shall not pass!'"

"You mean those old movies?" Kirito wondered. He'd picked up enough popular fantasy second hand thanks to his MMO obsession which had included several fantasy themed games prior to SAO.

Argo gave Caramella an offended look. "Tis completely different!" She defended, unexpected loyalty for her adopted home city bubbling to the surface.

"It is! Look at it, it's Minas Tirith, made from sandstone, and put on an island!" The Faerie woman crossed her arms. "Tell me that I'm wrong. I dare you."

Argo fell silent, nose twitching furiously. "Okay. Maybe RETCO was a little completely creatively bankrupt." Argo admitted.

Possibly even actually bankrupt now, Kirito speculated. The SAO incident had all but wiped out ARGUS, the original developer of the Nerve Gear and SAO, and that had only been ten thousand players. What would the mass 'death' or disappearance of sixty thousand people do to RETCO's reputation and bottom line?

He didn't think about it for long. Anything that had to do with that other world inevitably led to the people they had left behind. This time, his mom and dad had lost both him and Sugu. And then there was Asuna's family. Yuuki Shouzo had seemed like a genuinely caring, if distant, father and Asuna had spoken fondly of him the one time the subject had come up. He definitely didn't deserve to lose his only daughter.

"Okay, that should be long enough." Argo hopped down from her perch, four translucent yellow wings curving from her back. "Let's get going."

"Hey Abby-san, you need someone to carry that?" Caramella pointed to the comically over sized pack that the slight Spriggan was struggling to balance.

Abigail waved, red faced and still panting from the last leg of their flight. "This, no, this is fine! I used to carry this much all the time."

Kirito was about to say something when the girl finally lost the fight with balance, falling over backwards with a muted -thump-. Just because she could carry that much didn't mean she should. It was the same reason Kirito had stopped using his Black Iron Great Sword despite its impressive weight and striking power.

"Erm," Abigail squirmed, trying to worm her way free, but the straps of her pack had constricted in the fall, "Actually, I could use a little help." She reached up pleadingly, offering words of thanks as Kirito and Caramella helped her back to her feet.

The short hop across the water took less than a minute, even slowing down enough for Abbigail to keep up. As they flew, Kirito noticed and pointed out activity along the coast of Tristain.

"Yeah, those are some Earth and Water Mages hired by Freelia and the local Noble Peers." Argo said.

"What's that they're building?" Kirito asked, squinting. "A bridge?"

"Good eye." Argo agreed. "The ocean only gets around three to six meters deep here, so the Earth Mages are being used to shape foundations and supports. When they're done, we'll have a bridge as wide as the local highways connecting Freelia to the mainland. It's going to be a big help for trade."

Kirito was impressed. That was a lot of effort to be made on such short notice. The Local Nobility must have been eager to fully benefit from relations with Freelia.

The open fields and light forests of the island's Eastern side rolled by beneath them, a few small starting mobs running from their passing shadows or else taking flight from the trees to flee further into cover. Soon, the tall grass was giving way to the sand and straw of stables along the City Perimeter, and then to the tiled roofs and stone paved roads of the tiered City itself.

The narrow streets weren't as busy as the wide thoroughfares of Arrun. That wasn't surprising, Freelia had only four thousand permanent residence as compared to Arrun's twenty thousand Faeries. But Kirito still spotted plenty of activity on their approach, especially along the tops of the walls. More construction, and what looked like cannons.

"New defensive works. In case Reconquista decides to get frisky." Argo answered severely. She didn't look happy at seeing the ugly new battlements hastily added to the top of Freelia's graceful walls.

Freelia, along with Cadenza, was one of the closest Faerie settlements to Albion, which meant the city was uniquely vulnerable to attack. Kirito had heard that the Fae Lords and Tristain had been planning to do something about the situation, but this was the first time he'd seen the results for himself.

The Cait Syth were working hand in hand with their Halkegenian partners, using Geokinesis spells and the brute force animal power of their trained mobs to fit the shaped stonework created by the Earth Mages.

"What I want to know is where they're getting all of that artillery." Caramella said.

Argo's sour expression changed to an evil smile. "Twas a most generous gift from Lord Cromwell of Albion."

Kirito winced. "The cannons from York."

The victorious Tristanian fleet had returned from York with more than just captured ships, they'd also stolen hundreds of cannons from the wrecked fortifications and coastal batteries located across the city. Those same guns had now been re-purposed to guard the Tristanian coast from their old masters.

"_Most_ generous." Argo repeated innocently.

They climbed the final hundred meters to the top of Freelia Tower, setting down on the broad landing where a half dozen dragons, both ALfheim and Halkegenian, were busy sunning themselves in the warm morning light. A Pounce of Cait Syth were already waiting for them when they arrived.

"Argo-san!" A scholarly Cait hurried forward, staff in hand as if to support himself.

"Alden." Argo shared a forearm shake with the other Faerie. "We came as fast as we could, sa!"

It was hard to miss the dark bags under the Information Broker's eyes as she stepped back from the deputy leader of Freelia. Kirito watched closely, Argo hadn't acted herself when she'd learned about the latest murders, and she'd been on edge all through the night until they had set out just before sunrise.

"First, introductions." Argo said to herself. "Kii-bou, Caramel-chan, Abigail-san, this is Alden-san. I guess it's best to think of him as the Mayor of Freelia."

"Alden, you already know Suisen." Argo reached up to her shoulder and tapped her navigation pixie partner gently atop her small head. "The Spriggan with no fashion sense is Kirito, and the Gothic Lolita is Abigail-san, and the last is Caramella, one of Asuna-san's people."

"Kirito-san, and one of the KoB? More SAO survivors?" Alden looked relieved. "I suppose you're all better suited for this than most. We really are grateful you arrived so quickly."

"Un." Kirito nodded his head softly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Alden-san. Alicia-san speaks very highly of you."

"And likewise with you." Alden answered, exchanging a handshake. "We're lucky that Alicia-chan sent such capable people."

Looking up at the taller Cait, Argo added quietly. "If tis okay with you, we'd like to get started right away."

Abigail stepped forward, squeezing between Kirito and Caramella. "If you don't mind, after I sent my message, I'd like to know if you were able to do as I asked with the bodies."

The relief on Alden's face was replaced by worry. "The remains? Yes, we we've set up a cold room in Freelia tower. One of our mages conjured enough ice to keep the bodies chilled. But . . . I don't know what you expect to learn from them, the cause of death is obvious."

Abigail gave him a sympathetic look. "I won't know until I can do an examination, but every bit could help. Thank you."

Alden lead the way into the tower, the other Caits falling in behind him until they reached the counterweight elevators at the tower's heart. Kirito was on alert the moment they entered the lobby. They were being watched. Dozens of cat slit eyes turned to follow them to the elevators where Alden gave some last instructions to his subordinates, and ushered the four investigators inside.

The 'Mayor' of Freelia sagged visibly as the lobby rose out of sight through the glass doors, pulling the small, silver rune etched mage's cap from his head to show lightly spotted wheat blonde ears atop messy brown hair.

"That bad, huh?" Argo put a hand on his shoulder.

"That bad?" Alden laughed bitterly. "When people heard about the murder in Arrun, they got nervous. Then it happened here and worse!" He raised his hands helplessly. "What am I supposed to do? The city watch is being run ragged keeping up its patrols _and_ trying to maintain a constant watch in Freelia. People are expecting me to resolve this in Alicia-san's absence!"

"That tis what we're here for." Argo said softly.

Alden shook his head. "I can't say that is any better. I'm not even able to ensure the safety of the people." The man looked down, ears sinking, defeated. "Forgive me, this should never have been allowed to happen."

"I'm sure Sakuya-san and Alicia-chan feel the same way about Novair." Argo looked out the glass door as the elevator began to slow. "But you can't beat yourself up for not expecting a murderer. People can't live like that." She breathed softly, "You can't, sa."

The elevator came to a stop on one of the lower floors, letting them out into a tiled lobby that glowed in the reflected light of dozens of ore lamps. The interior of Freelia Tower was much like that of Arrun and Sylvain Towers, filled up with small shop fronts, store rooms, and meeting areas.

Even after the double homicide, the administrative areas were busy from an early hour, Cait Syth messengers and clerks hurrying about frantically with their own tasks.

Unlike Arrun, Kirito failed to spot a single head that wasn't marked by cat's ears. Freelia was a former faction capital, and it showed. Most people had chosen to settle in familiar surroundings, and there simply hadn't been enough time or external pressure to cause any sort of large migration save for the displaced players moving into Arrun. Thus, Freelia's population remained mostly composed of Cait Syth for now.

They were led down a twisting series of hallways and side corridors, the foot traffic trickling down to nothing until Kirito was sure that Alden had taken a wrong turn and gotten them lost within some Hidden Labyrinth type Dungeon.

The Cait stopped at an indistinct door, ear cocked as if listening carefully. Reaching one hand from his robes, Alden wrapped his knuckles gently against the door and waited as it was unlocked from the inside.

Kirito stepped into the room and then nearly leaped back as he came face to face with the stuff of nightmares.

"Gah!" The Black Swordsman of Aincrad was already grabbing for Onyx Arbiter when he full processed what was in front of him. He had been expecting a cold room containing the bodies for autopsy, instead he found this!

At first, it appeared to be a small Terrorantula that had consumed the head of a young Cait Syth and taken control of the body. That alone would have suited it to the horror themed levels of Aincrad's sixty sixth and sixty seventh floors. However, on closer inspection, it became clear that the mottled arachnid was situated on top of, and not replacing, the unfortunate Faerie's head.

"Creewww?" The large, forward pair of eyes looked up at Kirito like the lenses of a pair of binoculars, furred feeding mandibles rubbing against each other curiously.

"It's okay Lamar, they're supposed to be here." A pair of gray cat's eyes looked out at Kirito from beneath the curtain of the Terrorantula's delicately folded legs.

"Hey Kirito, what was that shout abo- Gyaaaah!" Caramella crashed into Abigail as she leaped away, both Faeries falling back into the hallway.

As if used to this sort of spectacle, the Cait Syth boy reached into a pouch on his belt and stuffed a handful of nuts into his mouth, regarding Kirito and Argo quietly as he chewed. Small and deeply tanned, silver-gray hair frizzing up around his head before being drawn into a short ponytail. If Kirito hadn't known better, he would have thought the boy was Alicia Rue's kid brother.

"A beast tamer?" Kirito asked cautiously, still not sure whether the sound from earlier wasn't the spider asking if he would be good to eat. He looked over to Argo. "You don't look surprised." He accused. "Shouldn't this count as Necessary Information?"

Argo's normal look of hate filled amusement returned with a vengeance. "Tis not like I could know he'd be here Kii-bou. I mean, I'd have to be prescient nya."

"Or just very, very, twisted." Kirito replied right back.

He could say with confidence that Argo had never lead anyone knowingly into danger, and never guaranteed the veracity of any information she hadn't confirmed personally. But he couldn't say that the Rat hadn't played a few dirty tricks in her time. As an information broker, her reputation depended as much on not being crossed as not offending.

"More introductions." Argo said with some of her old energy. "This is Raz, one of the Cait Syth's top beast tamers." Argo gestured.

"Un. Nice to meet you." Raz said quietly, reaching out to take Kirito's hand. The spider on his head replicated the motion with one of its forelegs, big black forward eyes looking up puppy dog-like at Kirito. "Don't worry." Raz said. "I spliced a siphon into her poison pouches, the worst she could do is give you some nasty bites."

"Raz is actually the person who cracked the secret to taming Dragons for the Cait Syth back in ALfheim Online." Argo added matter of factly.

"They're like sharks, flying sharks." The boy explained. "You have to feed them until they're full or you'll never get close for long enough to complete the taming."

"You okay Caramel-chan?" Argo called as Caramella hoisted herself off the ground and turned to help Abigail.

"Oh yeah, fine, never better." The Swordswoman snapped. "I just wished someone had told me about that," she pointed to Raz and his pet, "I would have packed my crowbar."

The Cait's eyes narrowed, reaching for his weapon, a thin longsword that was nearly as long as he was tall. Kirito could only think the weapon was meant for midair combat, it would have been impossibly unwieldy for such a small person to use on the ground.

"Alrigh, alright, I'm just kidding." Caramella sighed, grimacing as she entered the room. She tried hard not to look at the spider, or its owner, instead keeping Kirito between her and the odd pair at all times.

"This is everyone?" Raz asked, eyes tracking from Kirito to Argo, then to Abigail and Caramella, before returning to Alden.

"It should be." Alden said. "Two more will be coming along later. But Abigail-san is the examiner."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Raz-san." Abigail said, shaking both Raz's hand and Lamars offered forelimb. She looked around the room at her shocked fellow investigators. "What?"

"Never mind." Argo said briskly. "Are you ready, Abigail-san."

The contented look faded, replaced by a more solemn expression. "Un, let's get started."

"Then come this way." The boy gestured to a second door on the far side of the small waiting room, producing a key from his pocket and opening the lock with a muted -click-. "They've been waiting." He stopped at the door, ushering them in. "I'll wait out her, Lamar doesn't like the cold."

The inside of Freelia's hastily constructed morgue was as cramped as the one in the basement of Arrun tower, but there was still room for everyone to squeeze in under the pale light of the mineral lamps hung from hooks in the ceiling. The room was dominated by two tables, covered in white sheets.

"If it helps, our own doctors have already conducted autopsies." Alden gestured to a smaller table covered in tools and notes.

Abigail smiled kindly. "That will be a big help, but I should do my own examination first, just to be safe." The Cait stepped back, standing rigidly against the back wall.

Putting down her pack and removing a magnifying glass, gloves, a piece of pencil, and a notebook, Abigail set to work while the others watched.

The first sheet was pulled back and Kirito looked away. She looked young, too young, only a little older than himself. Whether that was her real age or not didn't matter. Cold skin shown palely in the mineral lights, and short cropped hair the color of weathered copper, feathered lightly around her head. For all that she looked to be at peace, Alden had been right, the cause of death was obvious.

"Damn." Caramella breathed, staring at where the girl's throat had been slashed, sawed back to the spine.

"Argo-san, you have a file on her right?" Abigail asked clinically as she pulled on her gloves and tied a handkerchief as a mask.

"Un." Argo nodded, distracted for a moment by the scene in front of her. "Sakuya-san sent me her info last night. She was called Liliana, a Sylph native to Sylvain. She was the mob patrol leader responsible for maintaining the watch between Freelia and the Sylph Capital."

"Do you know what her build was?" The Spriggan examiner pulled the sheet down further and began to inspect the skin for any signs of internal injury.

"A Magic Knight with an emphasis on Sylph Wind affinities." Argo answered like she was reading from a book. "I think she was a Halberd user."

"She definitely wasn't a weak Newbie." Kirito observed. "And the other one?"

Abigail turned and drew back the second sheet to reveal a tall, well built, Cait Syth male with short, ginger colored hair and ears. His throat had been brutally slashed in the same mortal fashion as Liliana and Novair.

"This one tis Tobi, a resident of Freelia, and a Dragoon." Argo's ears flattened slowly until they were flush with her head, tail hanging loose and lifeless. "I knew him." She blurted out. "We did a few raids together back when I started playing. He was an alright guy."

Kirito was caught between holding his tongue and trying to comfort her. "Are you going to be okay . . . Argo?"

"Just give me a minute." Argo said a little too quickly, a little too sharply.

They'd already known about the bodies, their names, and the circumstances under which they had been discovered. But there was a world of difference between knowing and experiencing.

"You found them on the beach, right?" Argo observed as she watched Abigail work. "What were they doing there?"

Alden shifted uncomfortably. "Tobi-san was Gaius's replacement when he was transferred to the defense forces under Lord Mortimer.

Kirito and Argo looked to one another, a wordless curse passing between them. "So he would have worked directly under you." Argo concluded. "Just what did Tobi-san do?

"The usual Watch business." Alden rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "He organized Freelia's watch and mob sweeps. That's probably what he was meeting with the Liliana-san about. If I were to guess, he had a bit of a relationship with her on the side, though it may have simply been professional courtesy."

"Moonlit walks on the beach?" Caramella asked, she sounded unconvinced. "Then they were definitely together when they were killed?"

"We think so." Alden confessed. "They were last seen leaving the city together after dinner, and they were found together early yesterday evening with their bodies floating in the surf."

Kirito raised a hand. "One more question, when they were found, were either of them armed?"

Alden's look of worry deepened. "Liliana's halberd was found close by, and Tobi was wearing his sword scabbard, though we didn't find the the blade. Neither of them was wearing armor just to walk around the Island, there's hardly any mobs that are dangerous enough to be any sort of threat, and help is always just a couple of minutes away.

"Kirito?" Caramella questioned, her expression was sober. "You're thinking what I think you're thinking, aren't you?"

"Actually, I was thinking about the Murderers Guild." Kirito's answer was short, simple, and abrupt, and immediately silenced everyone in the room. Caramella turned her head back to the bodies, spitting curses under her breath. "I was worried that people like Argo and the others weren't the only SAO survivors that decided to pick up ALO."

Though he was almost certain that the mandatory observation period put in place by the Government had still been in effect when he had last logged in, the possibility that these murders were being perpetrated by a Laughing Coffin member, or someone with similar tendencies, had been at the back of his mind from the start. But this . . . "This doesn't match Laughing Coffin's MO at all."

"Right! Laughing Coffin were as brutal as they were sadistic, but they wouldn't risk themselves if they could help it, they weren't suicidal." Argo looked all too anxious to agree. Maybe, maybe this was wishful thinking, but he hoped not. "Taking on two skilled fighters at once isn't something they would want to risk. Not so close to a settlement."

The members of Laughing Coffin, possibly driven insane by their imprisonment, possibly enthralled by their charismatic leader, or maybe just people who had seen an opportunity to indulge the dark part of their own souls, regardless of their motivation, they would never risk cutting short their 'fun' in the playground that Kayaba Akihiko had given them.

"Two on one, maybe not." Caramella pointed out. "But what if it was two on two, or two on three?"

"Maybe, but I don't think so." Kirito stared hard at the far wall, better that then the bodies that Abigail was systematically checking over from head to toe. "Or at least, I still don't think it would be anything like Laughing Coffin. For one, I don't think a Laughing Coffin member could have restrained themselves for this long."

"Maybe they could." Caramella suggested. "Killing in SAO is a lot different from real life. Maybe they were as freaked out as everyone else at first. And even if it's not Laughing Coffin, it doesn't discount some other psycho who's had the complete school of Tarantino swordsmanship crammed into his skull. I mean, don't serial killers usually have some sort of mark?" She nodded back towards the bodies. "That looks pretty conclusive to me."

"That's true," Kirito admitted, "But there's also something else, these attacks have a pattern."

"Right again sa." Argo muttered darkly. "First Novair, now the heads of the Freelia and Sylvain City Watch. These aren't based on some weird criteria. The targets are being logically selected. They're trying to cripple the Fae Lords' ability to lead."

Kirito gave another small nod. "Which means these attacks aren't going to stop, they're going to keep targeting people important to running the Cities and keeping public order."

Kirito felt his stomach turn. He hadn't been mistaken, this probably wasn't caused by a former member of Laughing Coffin. He didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified. It meant there was someone out there who might be even worse.

"Okay, why weaken the Lords rather than killing them?" Caramella asked again. "I mean, what does one do that the other doesn't?"

"Survivability." Argo answered. "Tis a means of assisted suicide to try and get past a Fae Lord's personal guards. You'd almost need a raid group."

Understanding dawned in the Swordswoman's eyes. "So do the next best thing by taking out the people they rely on."

"Usually under appreciated, and a lot less heavily guarded." Argo hissed, tail beginning to twist beneath her cloak. Argo turned back to Alden. "You need to get a warning out to anyone involved in running the city. Double up the watch patrols and keep the guard especially heavy in the residential district and here at the tower." Spinning back around. "Abby-san, this is going to take some time, right?"

"Uh, yeha, I have to check them both for any other injuries, and then check the doctor's reports." The Spriggan Gothic Lolita looked surprised. "Uhm, is there anything else?"

"No, that tis good nya! Find me when you're done sa." Argo was already out the door, followed closely by Kirito and Alden. "Alden-san, I need you to send a message to the other cities, tell them what I told you. Caramel-chan, stay here and keep an eye on Abby-san."

Things were too dire for the normally boisterous Swordswoman to even comment about her nickname, instead, she simply grimaced, exchanging stares with Raz and the spider that was still seated on his head. Judging by the way that the Terrorantula's feeding mandibles were moving, Raz had just recently fed it something, something live.

"I'd really rather not." She squinted. "Like, really, _really_, rather not."

"Then stand outside." Argo snapped, not even slowing down as she burst into the hallway. "Kii-bou, you're staying with me. This is our chance, the Dynamic Duo won't get here until evening, so now we can investigate the crime scene and Tobi's apartment without them messing anything up. If there's a pattern, maybe there's something else we can look for, a hint to why these particular people are being picked."

Kirito kept pace easily beside the Information Broker, Alden following at a brisk jog and calling for them not to run in the halls.

"What tis it?" Argo asked suddenly."

"N-nothing?" Kirito said.

The Cait snorted in contempt. "You can't hide it. You always get that stupid look on your face when you want to ask something, Kii-bou."

"Aren't you a little too harsh with Jensen and Vakarian-san? They're just doing their job."

Argo waited until they hit the elevators before answering, rolling her eyes in disgust. "Those two? Yeah, they're doing the exact same job they did in real life sa. Namely, keeping me from figuring out what tis really going on nya!" The Cait didn't even realized she'd shouted until she noticed Kirito and Alden covering their ears and a few worried looks from other Caits waiting in the lobby.

"I . . ." Her face grew pained as she leaned against the elevator door, taking a breath.

"SAO, games in general, they're all just numbers, the strength isn't real. Well, you know that nya. But the people are real, and so is the quality of their character sa. The people are real, even when the world tis not. I found Aa-chan, I found where she was, and in Aincrad that information would have meant something. But when I gave it to the SAO investigation unit", her hands balled into fists, knuckles turning white, "They just tossed it away, because I'm just the kid, and they're the adults, and anything I have to say tisn't worth hearing unless they decide it tis!"

Kirito watched as Argo's breathing slowed, her face was red, embarrassed at her outburst, but he couldn't blame her. It had been hard to explain SAO even to people who wanted to understand. It was even harder when they didn't want to hear. And there were lots of people who didn't want to hear. People who wanted to 'help' by completely isolating the SAO survivors from everyone they had met and known in the death game, compartmentalize and treat the whole incident as a single Traumatic Event.

This had almost been the plan decided on before the initial interviews with the survivors provided enough evidence that it would have done more harm than good.

Most of the players had been eager to piece together something resembling a normal life, and Kirito had been no exception, he'd been happy to be his perfectly ordinary self once more rather than the Black Swordsman of Aincrad. But it had still taken some getting used to. He'd felt strange for _not_ getting odd looks when he walked down the street.

How could Argo have felt, to see her hard work thrown aside by people who just wanted to treat her like a victim? Her reputation as The Rat hadn't been based on any stats, just her own hard work, sweat, and tears. Worse, she had been right and her voice had still been ignored by the people who were supposed to help.

"Jeez." Kirito whispered. "That's really lousy information. You better not sell it." He reached out, placing a hand firmly atop the Cait head and pulling her hood down playfully. "Or did you forget, that information meant a whole lot to me."

The elevator bell chimed once, announcing the arrival of the counterweight driven booth. Suddenly, Argo snickered. "So that tis that the way Kii-bou see's it, even now nya?"

'Even now?' He repeated mentally.

"Later." Argo decided out loud. "For now." She looked up, and her golden eyes almost seemed to glow with hate. "Someone thinks it tis _cute_ to kill the people who are working hard to keep us all alive. Let's find them so we can show them how we feel about that!"


	11. The Charming Faerie Inn

Halkegenia Online v2.0 – Chapter 5 - Part 1

Louise looked up at the building facade and then back down at the small scrap of paper baring the name and address. The building before them straddled the border between the Commoner and Petty Noble districts along one of the Capitals main streets, an area frequented by people of both stations.

The street was decidedly more shabby than the wide, well paved, and magelit thoroughfares surrounding the Palace and Estate districts, but still much superior to the crowded, overbuilt, and filthy streets of the Commoner Quarter. The building was likewise of common construction, with few of the furnishings and fittings that would suggest quality magework, but obviously well maintained nevertheless.

Two stories tall, three including an attic, with proper glass windows and a thatch roof that had very clearly seen recent repairs after a particularly harsh winter. The walls had been freshly painted, probably at the same time that the roof had been repaired, and the flower boxes lining the first floor windows were filled with the mid spring blossoms.

A small sign hanging over the door gave the establishments name in large lettering.

The Charming Faerie Inn

The Youngest Valliere Daughter glanced over to one of the hooded figures beside her, the one trying to keep her tail hidden beneath her cloak. Was it really wise for KoKo to enter such an establishment?

The Faerie woman had come along for 'Morale Support', whatever that meant. But her appearance had drawn rather more looks than Louise had expected her in the lower districts, forcing her to hide her ears and tail within a borrowed cloak.

Well, Agnes had sworn that the owner, though an eccentric, maintained a clean and safe establishment. And while still viewed with a mix of wonder and suspicion, KoKo had been welcomed politely enough while in Louise's company over the past two days.

"This is the place?" Louise looked over to Agnes.

A simple "Yes" was all the reply that Agnes gave.

The musketeer pulled her hood down. Being that she was of common birth, Louise would have expected the Lieutenant to blend in almost flawlessly, but if anything, her martial bearing and the severe set of her features created a contradiction that attracted rather than discouraged attention. People, mages especially, didn't expect a common woman to walk around looking like she could beat them to death. At least it kept eyes on the Musketeer rather than on KoKo or Louise.

Louise looked down at her own clothes. Commoner's garb, like Agnes, though very good commoner's garb as opposed to the musketeers utilitarian wear. If someone were to look closely, they might think her the daughter of a clerk or a Smith's assistant wearing her best clothes. At least, that was what she hoped. KoKo had expressed concerns that, with her personality, the disguise might break down under scrutiny.

Naturally, Louise didn't know what the Faerie woman was talking about. She was a Noblewoman after all, anything that a commoner girl could do, Louise was certain she could learn to accomplish just as well.

"Well, it looks very nice." KoKo offered. "That's encouraging, wouldn't you say?"

"The Proprietor runs a tavern on the first floor, a very popular establishment with the Petty Nobility and well to do Commoners. De'Martou frequents this place among others once or twice a week, usually with an associate, a different one every time."

"Among others?" KoKo asked.

Agnes shrugged. "The others have been placed under observation as well, but this one has proven particularly difficult given the establishments reputation."

_Reputation?_ Louise hadn't really been worried until Agnes had said that. Such a magic word to change her opinion so suddenly.

"This is not a place that many men would want their wives to know about," Agnes gave Louise an odd look, "So the proprietor has payed to have the premises kept surprisingly well warded. The charms aren't up to Royal Grade but I've been told they make surveillance at a distance most difficult. It's likely the reason de'Martou is so fond of this place for clandestine meetings."

"Wait!" Louise said suddenly. "Don't want their wives to know?" All of her time around Zerbst was starting rub off. Her face turned red. "Y-you mean this place is a brothel!"

The Musketeer placed a hand over Louise's mouth. "Are you trying to get us noticed?!" Agnes hissed under her breath. "And to answer your question, no, this is simply a tavern, though some of the girl's working here might make money on the side. It's harmless enough, young commoner girl's serve the clientele as if they were personal servants."

"So it's a Maid Cafe!" KoKo chirped, lips pressed thin as if she was unsure whether to smile or look worried, she settled on smiling with worry.

"A what?" Louise asked.

"Cute girl's dress up in frilly outfits and call the customers 'Master' and things like that. I had a friend who worked in one when I was younger." KoKo tilted her head. "Yeah, it was kind of weird I guess. But she seemed to have fun, most of the time."

So it wasn't as bad as she had thought. Louise didn't know whether to be relieved by this revelation, or outraged that Commoners and Petty Nobles would pay to fantasize about things above their station.

"That sounds about right." Agnes agreed, releasing Louise. "We've been trying to get someone trustworthy onto the staff to keep tabs on de'Martou. Naturally, we don't want to involve the proprietor. But it's been difficult. There are few enough people that we can trust at the moment, and unfortunately, some of de'Martou's associates work at the palace, so they might recognize myself or my musketeers."

People from the Palace! The corruption spread that far? Louise bit her lip, if that were the case, she was starting to see why this was so important. If Reconquista was so deeply rooted in Tristain, they would have to dig the rot out all at once, at its source.

As important as finding the lost Pixies was, this was even more so. It would mean nothing to save Botan's sisters if there was no safe haven to return them to.

"So, you already know what we're asking you to do." Agnes said. "If you don't think you're up to the task . . ."

Louise glared daggers at the Musketeer. "Let's just get this over with."

Agnes nodded, gesturing for Louise and KoKo to follow her across the crowded street and into the building. As soon as Louise crossed the threshold, her senses were assaulted by a faint smell of perfume and cinnamon. The inside of the establishment was as well cared for as its exterior. Dark wooden floor polished until it shown faintly in the light cast through the windows. Tables and chairs neatly set and cleaned.

And then there were the girls. Louise felt her eye twitch

"Good afternoon Mademoiselles!" A half dozen young women sang in near perfect unison.

It wasn't them being young that Louise found odd, many commoner girls worked some sort of job to garner money for their families. Even the female Soldiers of the Royal Guard were no exception to that rule. Nor was it strange that they were all female, after all, the running of inns was one of the tasks that commoner women usually gravitated to, likewise with making textiles, and distilling beer and wine.

No, it was their dress.

"Is that really what Petty Nobles think Maids wear?" Louise whispered to herself. They were much too frilly, and the skirts far too short. The clothes seemed almost meant to entice, hinting without ever quite revealing. She grimaced, she'd been spending too much time around Kirche if she could recognize the strategy of enticement.

"Ah, well." KoKo grinned nervously as she whispered back. "I think it's more what they wish Maid's wore."

Louise felt a well honed surge of contempt bubbling up within herself. That people with such vulgar tastes could be running about, was it any surprise that a traitor would be just such a deviant?

"Excuse me." Agnes spoke loudly. "But we're here to speak to Monsieur Scarron?"

The girls looked amongst one another before one, dark haired and very generously, well . . . Louise shook her head, very generous, overall, in a certain wholesome way, stepped forward as spokeswoman. "Ah, the Mademoiselle has stepped out for a moment, she shall be back in just a short while. If you would like to order something while you wait . . ."

Well of course Louise was hungry, opened her mouth only to find Agnes' hand blocking her once again.

"That is fine." Agnes said. "Some bread and wine would be appreciated. "We've traveled quite a ways."

Louise wondered about this last comment until she remember, of course, stupid, their cover story. How could she forget something so important?!

They were swiftly seated at a table near the door, giving Louise an opportunity to watch the girl's at work. It was between lunch and dinner, an odd hour that left the shop almost empty, giving the girls an opportunity to clean and prepare for the evening. Polite, cheerful, and energetic. The cleaning was meticulous, but overall, it didn't look too difficult. She as watched their waitress brought out a roll of bread, wine, and a block of cheese for them to share.

She could do this. It would be easy!

Agnes placed a pair of copper coins at the edge of the table as payment before producing a knife from her belt and parting off bread into three equal portions.

Louise was halfway through with the hunk of plain, faintly sour, bread when the doorbell chimed again.

"Welcome back mi Mademoiselle!" The collected voices of the waitress's sang.

"And it is good to be back my Girls!" Came a loud and oddly pitched voice.

Louise looked up, and then she stared, she didn't stop staring until Agnes elbowed her in the ribs. "Is he . . ."

"Quiet." Agnes grunted.

The man, at least, Louise thought he was a man, she really _hoped_ it was a man. He was huge for one, and impeccably well built, like a chevalier or a Commoner pikeman, someone who had spent a great deal of time on training and conditioning. But such men were usually either young Noblemen or course foot soldiers. This man was neither.

He was handsome, or at least should have been, middle aged with an impressive cleft chin and well tended mustache, but something about the color and gloss of his lips made Louise's mind rebel and . . . was that eye liner?

His clothes were no better, like something taken from Guiche's wardrobe and then, somehow, made worse. Generously cut shirt dyed deep purple and worn open to display a broad, hair covered chest and black trousers that seemed to have been cut for a man of ever so slightly smaller proportions.

No one feature was all that strange, but when taken together, the creature before her was truly bizarre

The Inn Master smiled as he greeted his staff, inspecting the girl's with a thoughtful eye and advising each on how to adjust their clothes for best effect. "Beautiful, beautiful my Darlings!" He spoke warmly. "Living up to our Inn's Promises."

"Yes mi Mademoiselle!" The girls said collectively.

"Did things go well mi Mademoiselle?" One of the girls asked. "Did you learn anything new?"

The man's smile faltered. "Oh, my girls! As you know our sales have been declining these last few weeks. And now we know that source!"

"Tell us Mademoiselle!" The girls shouted as one.

Louise winced, it was like watching a particularly badly acted play.

"It is that new shop, the Cafe! They have some dealing with a merchant who has ensured them shipments of fine Tea from the East." The proprietor reached into his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief, making a spectacle of holding it over his eyes while his free hand rested against his hip.

This couldn't be for real! Louise looked over to KoKo who simply held her nervous smile, even the Faerie didn't know what to make of this.

"Tea? From the East?!" One of the girls asked.

"Don't cry Mademoiselle, this will pass soon enough." Another girl patted her employer on the shoulder. "We won't be beaten by some Tea Leaves!"

"Yes! That is exactly right!" The man spread his arms wide. "If we allowed ourselves to lose to this 'Tea' all of the Charming Faeries of the world would Cry! That is why we must continued with our Charming Inn's Promises."

"Yes mi Mademoiselle!"

"The Charming Faeries' promise! Un~~"

"Serve with a cheerful smile!" The girls all demonstrated as one.

"The Charming Faeries' promise! Deux~~"

"A clean, and sparkling store interior!" Two of the girl lifted mops while the others gestured to their surroundigns.

"The Charming Faeries' promise! Trois ~~"

"Receive lots of tips!" The girls all said eagerly, smiles growing even wider.

"Tres bien!" Their employer cried. "Now then girls, run along! We must be ready to show this 'Cafe' what is needed to make it here in the Capital!"

"Yes mi Mademoiselle." As the girl's dispersed, the brunette who had spoken earlier and seated them stepped up to the proprietor, speaking softly into one ear, she pointed to Agnes, KoKo, and Louise.

Louise grit her teeth. Now that she'd actually seen the shop's owner, she was beginning to question the wisdom of this. Maybe, maybe Kirche and Tabitha should have come here and she and KoKo gone with Botan and Agnes' subordinate to spy on the old manor. Yes, provocative clothing, tiptoeing about, this would be perfect work for a Zerbst!

"Good afternoon Mademoiselles, Jessica here has told me that you have business with my Inn?" Lips pursed and an eyebrow rose expectantly. Louise heard a nasally -snerk- emerge from beneath KoKo's hood. "I am Scarron, this Inn's manager. How can I be of service?"

"My name is Trisha and this is my younger sister Louise," Agnes began, "Father has just sent her from the countryside to get her away from the dangers of the monsters that have been spreading from the Faerie Lands as of late."

Scarron's eyes widened. "Ah, how terrible! My condolences mi Petite Mademoiselle." The man sounded most sincere as he offered a little half bow. "Times are hard everywhere it seems. And now a war!" He shook his head.

"Quite." Agnes agreed. "I've been blessed with steady work as a maidservant, but I can barely spare the coin to support my sister along with myself. Which is why, though this may be asking too much, I would beg to know if you have any need of another girl here at the inn."

"Your Sister?" Scarron said appraising Louise with bright eyes. He looked back to Agnes. "And does the Petite Mademoiselle have any experience?"

"Only helping mother and father, and little of that I confess." Agnes said. "She's been quite frail you see. But she's a quick learner, I promise, and eager to work."

Scarron looked back to Louise, his expression softened into undeserved pity. As weird as he was, Louise still felt a little guilty to be lying like this. "I see." He said. "Jessica, what would you think?"

"Me?" The buxom girl asked. She raised a hand thoughtfully to her chin. "I'd say that she has a certain appeal that will definitely draw customers but . . . no experience . . . and sickly" She smiled, waving a hand from side to side knowingly. "Will she be able to keep up?"

"Priscilla did go off and get married on us." Scarron pouted. "And she is in dire straights. To see such a Petite Faerie in need, does it not make your heart cry out Jessica?!" He clasped his hands before himself as if pleading to the girl.

"Well, we can definitely teach her the ropes and see if she works out." Jessica decided. "But where are we going to board her?"

"The attic will do until she's proven herself, I think." Scarron waved. "It's just a place to sleep after all."

An attic? Louise thought. She was expected to sleep in an attic! And now Agnes was accepting on her behalf! They were being entirely unreasonable! She should say something, but before she could, she was being asked to stand up so that Scarron could look her over from head to toe.

"Lovely hair, and flawless skin if we can show a bit more. Some of Cassandra's old outfits would work perfectly with her figure, wouldn't you say Jessica?"

"Well, we'll have to draw them in a bit." The girl agreed. "Especially around the bust. "

Lousie ground her teeth together. 'Remain calm, remain composed, do not allow your temper to rise.' Slowly, she won the battle with herself, step by step, until at last she heard Scarron agreeing to take her on and to board and feed her.

Apparently, the girl's were payed in the tips they collected, with their rooms and food considered as their basic salary.

"Of course, that is only to see how she works out. Or rather, we will give her some time to acclimate and then see if we will keep her." Scarron explained.

"That's very generous of you." Agnes stood up and allowed Scarron to take her hand. "Father will be most thankful."

"Have no worry Mademoiselle, your sister will be in good care with us." Then he turned to KoKo. "And are you also a friend of these two?"

"Moi?" KoKo asked, pulling her hood a little lower. "Ah, I met Miss Louise and her sister on the way into the city. Just passing through. Looking for work. Nyeh-heh."

Scarrons ears perked at the odd chuckle. "Is that so? Well then, Mademoiselle." He took her hand as well. "I do wish, wish . . ."

"Mademoiselle?" Jessica looked worried, waving a hand in front of the store manager's face. "Err . . . Father?"

Father?! Louise felt like her eyes were about to pop out of her skull. A girl like _that_ could be sired by a man like _that_?! No, it wasn't possible. She'd sooner believe that mother had gone and had an affair!

Scarron said something in a tiny, squeaking voice.

"What was that?" Jessica leaned closer.

"Tail." Scarron whispered.

"Neh?" KoKo looked down. From beneath her cloak, it seemed her tail had decided to show itself when she'd stood up, curling from side to side beneath the brim of her cloak. "Oh, uhm, uh. It can do that sometimes." She looked a little embarrassed."

"Neh . . ? Nyah . . ?" Scarron parroted. He looked down at the hand he still held and quickly splayed KoKo's fingers wide, examining the unusually sharp, hard nails and then comparing them with his own. By now, the other girls had noticed the commotion and were watching closely.

"Ah Mademoiselle. If it would not be too much trouble . . ." Scarron said, half apologetically, could you perhaps, your cloak that is . . ."

"What? Oh." KoKo looked about, embarrassed, before settling on reaching up to pull down her hood.

The girl's all gasped as they got their first good look at KoKo, and more importantly, her ears.

"A Faerie!" Jessica breathed.

The other girls started to murmur, curious, excited.

"A Faerie?"

"A real Faerie!"

"A _Cat_ Faerie!"

"She's pretty. And look at those spots in her hair."

"And her eyes are beautiful. I had a cat like that!"

"Don't be rude! Ah, please excuse her, she didn't mean it like that."

KoKo's cheeks darkened faintly at the praise, smile never leaving her face. Scarron raised a hand, silencing the chatter. "Did I hear rightly a moment ago Mademoiselle?"

"Eh?" KoKo's ears twitched.

"You said you were looking for work." Scarron took her her hand once more, squeezing fiercely. "Please, if you would be so kind Mademoiselle. If you might entertain, just for a moment the possibility of perhaps seeking employment in my Inn."

"What?!" The shout was accompanied by the slamming of flesh against hardwood.

All eyes turned to source of the disturbance. Agnes stood hunched over their table, breathing heavily. "I mean," Agnes tried to regain her composure, "I'm certain that Miss KoKo has someplace else she needs to be. The Faeries have their own means of employment, in their settlements after all. I'm sure she has very important skills that are necessary."

Louise wondered what this was about, and then realized, if they wanted to keep de'Martou unaware of their presence, they needed to avoid rousing suspicion. It wasn't entirely impossible that a Faerie would seem out of place or make him nervous.

But try as she might, Louise looked to KoKo, she couldn't imagine the Faerie woman intimidating anyone, not unless she was really angry. And Louise had only seen her like that once. And if Scarron was really so enamored with the idea, wasn't it better that he hire KoKo now then some other Faerie that didn't know what was going on?

Scarron looked stricken. "Please, simply consider it Mademoiselle, as a special limited engagement." He bowed deeply. "My Shop would be forever in your debt."

KoKo seemed to give it some thought. Louise nodded eagerly while Agnes shook her head. It seemed the decision would be entirely up to the Cait, one way or another. "I wouldn't dream of taking a job away from Trisha-san's sister." KoKo said finally.

"Ah, of course, we naturally would hire both of you!" Scarron said. "Miss Louise has such classical Tristanian beauty, and your own exotic features will be just as popular. This is just the advantage we need right now!"

"Well then, I guess I don't have anything really planned for the next little while." KoKo admitted, chuckling in that cat like nasally fashion.

Louise let out a breath as the girl's cheered, closing around KoKo and herself to introduce themselves. Hopefully this wouldn't turn out to be a horrible mistake. She looked over her shoulder to wear a disbelieving Agnes was slowly covering her face with her hand. Really hopefully.

She hoped Botan, Kirche, and Tabitha were off to a better start.

* * *

Kirche Von Zerbst stretched languidly as she was roused from her stupor, looking about for the source of the disturbance in hopes that it might be something interesting, a troop of bandits, some orcs, even a random mob, but alas, her eyes fell upon a faint rustling in the grass that turned out to be the return of Botan and her miniature draconic mount from a foraging expedition.

Kirche yawned, she sat a little straighter, propping herself against a tree and surveying her surroundings. They were perhaps a dozen leagues West of the Capital, a good day's carriage ride by all measure, though only a short flight for Sylphied.

The Tristanian countryside, scenic, peaceful, and breathtakingly dull for as far as the eye could see. It seemed that neither the Transition nor new of the war had managed to make this place more interesting. All that there was for Leagues around were tenant farmers and their fields. In fact, the only hint of ALfheim anywhere in sight was the Pixie and her dragon, currently dividing up the spoils of their hunt, a handful of berries and nuts.

It was no surprise that a lowly Chevalier would have ended up with his estates in such an out of the way place, such was the Fate of all but the most exceptional of the elevated Nobility. Of course by now, all that the last son of the de'Martou line had managed to hold onto was a decidedly shabby country manor and its immediate surroundings.

'How droll.' Kirche pouted, this was hardly how she'd been expecting to spend her time away from the academy. "I wonder if it's too late to go off and join Louise." She said out loud to no one in particular. At least, she didn't expect an answer from any of the people in her vicinity.

Funny, up until recently, she could have barely imagined _wanting_ to seek out Louise. Before, the younger girl had simply been _there_ someone to amuse herself with. She'd been fun, fun to argue with if nothing else, but now Kirche almost thought of her as a friend. Friend enough to hope her own efforts were meeting with more success.

Friend enough to feel a little pride in the Progress the young Valliere had been making. And also, friend enough to start worrying just what she would say if a certain Faerie came asking again. It hadn't just been Kirito last time, he'd brought along another one, a gold haired Cait girl with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue.

Did the Spriggan really suspect something? Or maybe he just planned for everything. Kirche didn't know. So far, she hadn't seen a thing, one way or the other, that hinted a wit about the nature of Louise's magic. And maybe that was okay. Maybe she really was just some subdot who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

To Kirche's left, Tabitha had seated herself atop a tree stump, flipping through the pages of her latest book while glancing up from time to time at any odd noises. Nearby, a pair of Tristain's Royal Guard Musketeers were trying to take the opportunity for some shut eye, using their packs for pillows while the third of their troop stood watch.

They couldn't observe the old manor from the nearby tree line, that would be too obvious, and a sure sign of their intentions if they were discovered. Instead, the trio of musketeers had arranged an improvised blind on the far side of the roadway leading up to the house, well off of de'Martous small remaining property.

From this distance, it was easy enough to observe traffic along the road, and to pick up the occasional snatch of conversation on the wings of an Echo Charm arranged by Tabitha. They had been, up until now, more interested in observing who was coming and going then in attempting to pry into the house interior.

But with any luck, Kirche's eyes drifted once more to Botan who had started to quietly eat, that might change this evening.

"Anything happen while I was getting my beauty sleep?" Kirche asked Tabitha.

The dainty Chevalier shook her head as she flipped the page of her novel. Not even finished with their first day and Tabitha was already done with her second book. There was a whole satchel of them set beside her, but knowing Tabitha, she'd be finished with them in a couple of days. And then she would be as bored out of her skull as the rest of them.

The problem was that for the home of a suspected traitor, nothing seemed to be happening, nothing at all. That was just it, _nothing_. In and of itself that was suspicious.

This was an old country house, true enough, and not in the best of shape, but there was very obviously activity up the road. Smoke rose from the chimneys, and the Musketeers had reported seeing candle and lamp lights during the night. But nobody was ever seen outside. Nor was anyone ever seen arriving or departing.

Somebody must be living there, and most obviously that somebody was not Terrance de'Martou. The Good Traitor's job as a Royal Tax Collector kept him in the Capital. So who was using the old house, and to what end?

"Nothing since you fell asleep," The Musketeer on watch confirmed. Kirche thought that Agnes had called her Samantha, one of her best, she had said. The Germanian could hardly forget the girl, a lovely sense of humor to go along with a bright smile and sense of martial professionalism that was refreshing to see in a Tristanian Soldier.

"So then, mind telling me again why we're even bothering with this?" Kirche asked without a stitch of amusement. If this turned out to be a waste of time, she was not going to be pleased in the least.

Samantha smiled confidently. "They'll let something slip eventually. Corrupt Nobles always do." The last comment was made with a note of certainty, like she was predicting rain as the first drops began to fall. "And if not, we have plans we can start with tomorrow."

Yes, _that _plan, how unpleasant. One way or another, they were going to have to see inside the house eventually and if Botan was thwarted in some way, it would be up to her and Tabitha to play the part of two foreign girls on holiday who had gotten lost along the road.

Kirch grimaced. Contrary to popular belief, she wasn't particularly fond of staying in the company of the sort of weak willed men she could simply manipulate with her body.

"Well, let's just hope our little spy can find something then, shall we?" Kirche said and then piqued up as she heard the indignant huff from beside her wrist. "Or I suppose you'd prefer infiltrator?"

"'Scout' will do nicely." Botan bit off as she tossed aside a cored out seed. "I just have to get inside and look around without being spotted, right?"

"That's right." Samantha leaned down, giving her new comrade, less than a thousandth her size, an encouraging smile. "And also, you'll need to investigate anything that looks suspicious. But if you can't get close, you should just come back and report it, okay?"

"If it has to do with my Sister, I'll have to take the risk." Botan warned, facing off against the Musketeer as if it was a personal dispute.

Kirche supposed it was, after a fashion. After all, these were her _sisters_. Kirche could appreciate the power of family bonds, her own family having tolerated her for as long as it had.

Samantha frowned. "Miss Botan, I can understand your impatience, but please don't act rashly. The Lieutenant asked for your help because this is something you are uniquely suited for and so that it might speed the discovery of the conspirators. The sooner we've found de'Martou's handlers, the sooner you can _find_ your sisters."

"I tire of being told about delays. I am not here to do tricks." The Pixie said wearily, her lips pursed. "But I don't have a choice for now. I'll be with Schwartz, keeping watch from the trees. Call me when it's time." With that said, Botan spread her wings, vanishing up into the foliage above them, her black feathered dragon following at her whistled command.

Kirche quirked an eyebrow before turning her eyes back to the almost abandoned manor. It seemed she wasn't the only one having second thoughts.


	12. Headlines!

Halkegenia Online - Chapter 5 - Part 2

In the end, any problem could be broken down into a question and an answer, and in between the two was information, the points of data that led inexorably to a conclusion. It was the quality and quantity of information that mattered above all else. Information was life, more than power, more than wealth.

Or at least, that was what Argo liked to think. Maybe she'd spent too much time alone in dark rooms connecting dots that only she could see. Maybe she really was the one vindicated conspiracy theorist who had, by chance, been right. But she didn't have the luxury of uncertainty now.

Padding barefoot down the hallway of the Cheshire Inn in her night clothes, Argo the Rat, infamous information broker of Aincrad, and now a Faerie of the Cait Syth Race transported to the world of Halkegenia, scrubbed at her still damp hair and ears with a towel, tail hanging soddenly behind her and sending chills up her spine as it slowly air dried.

The soak had done her good, giving her some time to sort out her muddled thoughts. 'Guess Caits don't mind getting wet.' Argo thought as she reached her room. Though she'd seen plenty of other odd behavior among her fellow demi-felines, raising more than a few questions about what the transition had done to them.

At any other time, teasing apart the details of their altered physiology, and possibly even psychology, would have seemed like a productive way to spend the evening. But now she was occupied with much more dire matters, the reason they were in Freelia.

Argo stopped at the door to her room, she knocked once before inserting her key into the lock and turning it with a click. Another inn, another familiar room. Two beds, two chairs, a writing desk, a dresser, and small table. Oh, and one roommate.

"Bath's free now." Argo said.

Stretched out on the bed nearest the door, the Faerie Swordswoman Caramella sat up slowly, blinking owlishly.

"Guess I better take it while I can," she stretched.

A long day of flying, searching, questioning, and waiting on Abigail and her autopsy reports had left all of them exhausted. But it wasn't the work that was doing it, the lack of progress was what was taking the real toll.

Caramella stopped at the door long enough to look over her shoulder. "Hey, I'm meeting up with Kirito and the others down in the dining room, do you want me to bring anything back?"

Argo snorted, "Only if they've figured out how to brew a triple shot espresso." The Cait shook her head. "Don't bother, I already checked."

She took a seat at the writing desk and fished through her satchel for a notebook. Suisen poked her head out from one of the pockets, blinking curiously before flitting up to settle beside a table lamp.

Caramella rolled her eyes in a fashion that very patient mothers usually reserved for petulant children. "I was thinking food actually."

Argo let out an impatient breath before replying curtly. "Sorry, I don't have much appetite right now." Seeing the bodies earlier had left her with very little desire for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. She paused, glancing to Suisen who looked up expectantly. "Maybe bring back some bread," Suisen ringed her hands anxiously, "One of the honey rolls."

Hearing her guardian relent, the navigation pixie fluttered her wings in silent delight. The simple expression of contentment was almost enough to lift Argo's own spirits, almost.

"Got'cha." Caramella looked on uncertainly before shaking her head. "And don't beat yourself up about all of this, okay?"

"I don't know what you're talking about sa." Argo said without looking up. She wasn't being too hard on herself, she was just doing exactly what was needed.

"Uhuh." The swordswoman looked unconvinced. "I'll be back later." Caramella sighed, disappearing into the hall and locking the door behind her.

At last it was quiet, she was alone with just Suisen, her thoughts, and her notes. All the information they had collected was at her fingertips. Now, was it enough to learn anything new? Where to begin?

The pages of the notebook were filled with messy scrawl, all of it added over the last few days, notes about Novair, his habits and known acquaintances, and now information about Tobi and Liliana.

They'd worked through the whole day and early evening, meticulously searching Tobi's apartment and questioning everyone who had known the two latest victims in hopes of finding some common thread, anything that might let them anticipate the next target. But so far they had found nothing. Or maybe they had and simply didn't know it.

Three murders, three dead Faeries, three dead former players. The cause of death in all three cases had been a slash to the throat, delivered by something very sharp.

Extracting a bottle of ink and a quill pen from her bag, Argo turned to a blank page. She began to draw out bubbles, connecting them by lines to gradually built up a spider plot. She didn't even have to think about it, her hands worked on their own while she let her mind wonder.

Following death, all three bodies had been disfigured, the throats cut all the way back to the spine in a fashion that Abigail believed had been performed using a serrated or saw toothed implement.

'Killer's Mark?' She scribbled down.

Save for this brutal mark, none of the victims showed further signs of additional disfigurement except for defensive or incidental injuries and relatively few of those. The attacker had to have been incredibly quick and extremely good at a ambush kill. Nor did it appear that anything had been taken from their person.

'Motive.' A question mark was added by the line that connected the first two bubbles.

Two of the victims had known each other, but only by virtue of occupation. Nobody they had questioned had been able to confirm that there was anything happening between them. Novair hadn't had any direct contact with either Tobi or Liliana. Two of the victims were Sylphs, one was Cait Syth, but it wasn't clear if Tobi and Liliana were both intended victims or one had simply been in the way of killing the other.

She drew three smaller circles, each containing a victim's name and the logo of their respective factions.

They didn't know each other, none of them were the target of a grudge. The only common link was their involvement in the emerging Faerie Government.

She sketched a single logo, the nine branched Oak Tree and Spire that had been decided upon as the Official Seal of the Faerie Council, and circled it, connecting it to all three victims.

That had to be it. Or was it? 'Could that be a coincidence?' Argo wondered. She wanted to check her notes.

"Suisen." Argo asked, maybe a little to forcefully.

"Yes, Argo-san." The Pixie took up an attentive posture.

"By now, about how many people work directly for the Faerie Lords?" She'd kept count for the first few weeks, but eventually, her other responsibilities had left her with little time to take census data. Instead, she'd delegated Suisen to memorize the facts and figures. True intelligence had only made her little partner even more useful.

The Pixie's head bowed as if she was giving the question a great deal of thought. "Including personal staffs, city workers, the watch, and the defense force volunteers, there are approximately six thousand one hundred and twelve."

Argo leaned back in her chair, that was what she'd thought. Even excluding that one in ten Faeries were involved directly in some way with their fledgling government, the murders had all been perpetrated against high ranking personnel, the secretary of a Faerie Lord and two Captains of the Watch.

This was planned, not just the execution but the effect, there was a clear objective beyond the killing. Then was the blood and gore some sort of camouflage? Was someone trying to hide the murders by making them _look_ like random killings? She'd almost be impressed if it wasn't so twisted.

Okay then, what else?

"Suisen, how many other people people are like the victims?"

The pixie tilted her head as she tried to parse the question. "I don't understand."

The Information Broker shook her head. It was easy to forget, Suisen might have gained true sentience and autonomy, with all of the intelligence that it implied, but she was still very childlike and sometimes didn't grasp context very well.

"I want to know how many people had equal or greater status to Novair, Tobi, and Liliana, anyone who is closely trusted by the Faerie Lords." Argo clarified.

"One moment." Suisen blinked as she parsed and processed the request. "There are seventy five people who match those criteria. The Ten Watch Captains, the members of the Tau Tona ruling council, the eight standing Faerie Lords and their personal assistents, Commander Eugene of the Self Defense Forces," Suisen continued to patiently list off names and occupations.

Seventy five people, and any one of them could be the next target. That was too many to guard all at once. The watch simply didn't have enough officers. And worryingly, if Liliana and Tobi were any indication, the killer was more than able to take on multiple opponents at once.

It was time to start eliminating potential Targets. The Faerie Lords were the first she took off the list, it didn't matter how good the attacker was, they wouldn't be getting through the Guard's of the Fae Lord's any time soon. Next were the head administrators of each of the City's, their lives were simply too public to be easily caught alone, more importantly, the killer hadn't targeted Alden even though the administrator was arguably even more important.

Argo tapped her quill against the paper impatiently. So far, the Killer had chosen his target from a relatively elite class of former players. Lilian and Tobi had both been fairly powerful, a Magic Knight and a Dragoon Respectively, and even Novair had been no pushover thanks to being on the leading edge of the Sylph efforts to prepare for the World Tree Raid . . .

Was that it? Tobi had been on it, had Liliana? She was willing to bet that the answer was yes. Novair hadn't been on the raid itself, but he had accompanied Lady Sakuya to Sylvain. Was that another link?

Argo was just beginning to fill in another bubble, surrounding it with question marks when a sound from her window caused her ears to pique. The sound probably wouldn't have bothered her before, but not now, as a Cait, she could hear everything, and her brain was able to dissect the slightest sensory input. It caused her to freeze.

It started as a scratching, barely audible even to her. The thing that made it stand out was how irregular it was, like something creeping, something prowling. Creaking turned to a groaning, like wood bearing too much weight. Still the noise was so faint that she could still hear Suisen's small voice.

" . . . The Black Swordsman Kirito, the White Flash Asuna, Argo the Rat . . ."

Argo let out a shout as she pounced for her dagger, resting atop her bed.

With a wrenching -snap- and a shout, something lithe and fast fell into view outside the half open window, battering it aside as it crashed into the room.

When Kirito heard the shout and the subsequent crash from the floor above, he was just greeting Caramella at the foot of the stairs. Both Faeries froze as they processed the noise. For a moment, his mind had been behind his accelerating body in reacting. Then he'd realized what he had just heard and the fact that he had just heard it within an Inn, and he became a blur of motion, memories of a different case in a different world flashing through his head.

The interior of the inn was too confined to use his wings, even if they would work properly in an indoor space. He didn't bother trying to fly, but he did the next best thing as he kicked off from the ground floor, taking the stairs in only two bounds before ricocheting off the second story wall and running for Argo's room, Caramella was right behind him, hand reaching for her sword.

Doors opened down the hall, occupants poking their heads out to learn what the noise was about before ducking back inside as Kirito streaked past.

Argo and Caramella's room was at the far end, there was no time to slow down, no time to take it safe.

"Caramella!" Kirito barked as he drew Onyx Arbiter.

"Right with ya!" The Swordwoman shouted.

Kirito dug his heels in, slowing just enough to not be a danger as he lead with his right shoulder. Faerie Swordsman met hardwood, and though the door didn't buckle, he still managed to tear the lock free from the door frame. Kirito was barely slowed down as he skidded to a stop within the confines of the inn room, ready for anything, or so her thought.

"Ar . . ." He began to shout out, only for the name to die on his lips. " . . . go?"

"We're . . . here?" Caramella stumbled to a halt behind Kirito.

"Nice for you to join us, Kii-bou, Caramel-chan. Looks like someone wanted to join you guys for dinner." Argo said from the floor, one strap of her nightshirt hanging from her shoulder and damp hair falling over her eyes. The Cait Syth information broker looked unamused as she sat atop another shape, straddling it from behind as it squirmed about beneath her discarded cloak.

The squirming intensified, causing an irate Argo to push down on a lump at the front of her cloak, causing the form to sit still. Both sword users stood, taking in the scene before them.

Kirito sighed, re-sheathing his sword and gesturing for Caramella to do the same. The Swordswoman didn't look so sure, so he explained. "I think Argo has it under control." Resting hands at his side, Kirito let his pulse slow. "So, what exactly happened?"

"What happened?" Argo looked annoyed. "I was just going over my notes with Suisen when I heard something outside my window. Good thing too, otherwise _this_," she pushed down angrily on the lump, "Would have landed right on top of me."

Looking past Argo, Kirito noticed that the window frame was hanging only by its bottom hinges, the jam broken off and fallen to the floor.

"Mmmph?" The lump under the cloak rose and twisted from side to side. "Mmm! Mhmhm?!"

"Seems pretty talkative." Caramella noted. "You wanna get that, or should I?" The Swordswoman sighed as she returned her own sword to its scabbard.

Kirito gave Argo a hand hauling the captured intruder to their feet, finding the slight figure to be surprisingly compliant as they set them down on the side of the bed nearest the window.

Reaching up, Argo tore her cloak away, and the Faerie trio got the first good look at their captive. What they found didn't leave Kirito feeling very impressed.

"Wow dudes, you really know how to make a girl feel welcome!"

Argo's intruder was a Cait Syth, and none to imposing even by Cait Syth standards. Dorky, that was probably the best way for Kirito to describe her, and even using that term made him feel incredibly uncool by proximity. Short and thinly built with rosy cheeks, bright brown eyes, and brown hair tied up in pigtails.

Her equipment appeared to be designed for a ninja build and was far more professional and intimidating than its wearer, snug, form fitting, dark blue body glove under lightweight fabric armor, all sized to keep any loose bits from rubbing or catching. A pair of grappling claws hung from the straps attached to her wrists, a large wood splinter still stuck to one of the claw tips.

"Okay, time to talk." Argo spat out venemously. It had been a long day, and whatever Good Humor the Cait Girl usually had was by now completely spent.

The girl's lips thinned. Did she think she was being brave by not talking? Argo's own stare bored into the girl until she finally cracked. "I wasn't doing anything!" Three neutral faces stared at her without a hint of amusement or belief. "Okay! I wasn't doing anything _illegal_! Technically."

Argo cocked an ear, listening to the commotion in the hallway and on the floor below. The noise of the girl's entry and being subsequently subdued, combined with Kirito's own rushed entry, had drawn plenty of attention. The Information Broker looked back to the girl on the bed whose look of indignation was starting to fade as she realized that she was in Real Trouble now.

Argo's expression turned into a spiteful little smile. "You know, the watch has been on the lookout for people like you, right? Lots of people have been caught using their wings and magic to spy on others while they're changing clothes or bathing. I guess the lack of porn is driving some perverts off the wall nya. You have thirty seconds, a minute tops, before the Innkeep gets up here. That tis how long you have to explain why we shouldn't turn you over to the Watch. Now spill sa!"

The threat did its work, eating away at the girl's confidence and resolve. She exchanged horrified looks with Kirito and Caramella. "S-she's joking right!"

Kirito rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It is pretty suspicious, I can't think why else you'd be hiding outside a window."

"Tell us what you're doing here, or get called out as a pervert to the entire city." Caramella emphasized with a mocking smile.

"Clocks ticking . . ." Argo added with a nasally hiss.

The girl trembled, face contorting as if she was about to burst. "Urrghh okay! I'm called Netzel, I'm a reporter for ALfheim Daily!"

"A reporter?" Three voices asked as one.

The girl nodded eagerly. "That's right! You got a problem with that?"

"No . . ." Kirito said. How to put it? Actually looking at her, she did look suspiciously like the stereotypical female reporter despite her attire. All she needed was a beret stuffed with a pres pass and a camera.

Argo groaned rubbing at her eyes as if she had just been presented with an unappealing complication. "Netzel." Argo said. The girl nodded eagerly. _"That_ Netzel."

"So you've heard of me?" The girl almost beamed. "Sweet!"

"No, tis not sweet sa!" Argo bit off a less ladylike reply.

"I'm guessing you know about her?" Kirito asked, the sooner they got this sorted out the better.

"What is going on in here!" The faintly nasal shout of a third Cait Syth came from down the hall, signaling the arrival of the Inn keeper, a Cait Syth with steel gray hair whose appearance was that of a woman in her early thirties, the far end of the age range that was common among randomly generated characters. She gave the damaged door one look and then gaze imperiously into the room as if daring anyone to answer. A few of the braver or more curious guests peered out from behind her apron, wielding swords, axes, and even a few cooking utensils as improvised weapons. None of them actually looked at all prepared to fight, in fact, with the exception of the inn keeper, they all looked terrified.

Kirito's shoulders sagged, they really didn't need to go out of their way to put people on edge. The whole city was as sensitive as a cat right now . . . and he wanted to punch himself for even thinking that. "We're sorry but . . ."

"My friend Netzel here was just coming to visit and she thought she could surprise me by coming in through the window." Argo said casually. "It didn't occur to her that it be locked, and well . . . " She gestured pointedly to the window frame to explain her story. "Kii-bou here thought something bad was happening and rushed in while Netsu-chan and I were still in a heap."

Kirito flinched when the Inn keeper turned her attention to him, the look in her eyes threatened obliteration if he lied. So he very carefully didn't. "That's right, I was just concerned for my friend." He turned, smiling tightly, "You really shouldn't have done something that stupid Netzel-san."

"Ah, ah, sure thing, yeah." She raised her hands apologetically.

The Inn Keeper took a few moments to decided if she was satisfied before nodding reluctantly. "Then tell me . . ." The Cait woman closed her eyes.

"Ah, uhuh?" Netzel smiled feebly.

"Just who exactly will be paying for the repairs?"

"Ah? Uh . . ." Netzel began to look nervous when a deep, low voice came from farther down the hall.

"Don't worry Ma'am, we'll cover it under Watch expenses." An approaching Undine in a dark blue trench coat said, his partner close behind him.

"And you are?" The Inn keeper gave them both suspicious looks.

"Jensen, and this is Vakarian-san." Jensen said. "We're with the Arrun city watch, here to investigate the murders of Watch Captain's Liliana and Tobi. These three are also on assignment from the Faerie Lords." The man removed his sunglasses and gave Kirito a curt look. Somehow, Kirito didn't feel like they were being rescued.

"The murders?" A severe looking Cait asked. "Have you learned anything yet?"

"Not yet." Jensen said, raising his hands to ward off any more questions. "I understand that this has you all on edge. But our investigation is still ongoing. Everyone, please return to your business."

"You heard him." Vakarian added lowly. "Move along people, there's nothing to see here. These aren't the Faeries you are looking for."

The small crowd, uncertain at first, began to gradually return to their own rooms or head back down the hall to the dining room until all that was left was the Inn Keeper herself. "And how exactly am I going to be reimbursed for this?" She waved at the damaged door and window.

"Aren't you just a squatter who settled down here like everyone else? Maybe you should figure it out . . ." Vakarian began, only to be silenced when his partner raised a hand.

"I'll sign off on the damages. Just get an estimate to Freelia Tower and they'll release the funds."

The Cait Woman allowed her expression to soften. "If that's the case, then thank you. This Inn . . . it's all I really have right now." She put hand lightly against the wall. "I want to take care of it like it's been taking care of me."

"We understand Ma'am." Jensen said softly. "Sorry for the damages and for the inconvenience."

"Un, I was reckless." Kirito added without prompting. "We're all on edge right now."

The Inn Keeper thanked Jensen again, lingering a few moments longer before hurrying off to get a replacement key. There were still a few spare rooms and she claimed she couldn't have guests staying in a room without a lock.

After she had left, Jensen and Vakarian had turned their attention to the nervously smiling Netzel.

"Oh, hell, not you again." Vakarian groaned.

"You know her?" Caramella grabbed one of the room chairs, seating herself backwards.

"Unfortunately." Jensen confirmed. "She's got something of a reputation with the Watch. Getting into trouble where she isn't wanted."

"Hey!" Netzel countered, voice rising as she half rose from the bed. "The Public has a right to know dude! And this is breaking news. You really think you can keep this all under wraps?"

"Like I was saying." Argo spoke loudly enough to silence the nascent argument. "Netzel, tis a member of the guild Ad libitum, for the last three weeks she's been employed independently as a freelance writer for the ALfheim Daily. They're the people who have been keeping the message boards in all of the town squares up to date if you haven't noitced."

"Wow, you've done your research. Kudos dude!" Netzel grinned widely. "Now it's my turn. You're Argo, one of Alicia Rue's top assistants and currently part of the murder investigation being conducted on behalf of the Faerie Lords. Everyone seems to think you're highly trusted by Alicia Rue and the other Leaders." She then pointed to Kirito.

"That over there is the Black Swordsman Kirito, he's a top rate Spriggan Sword user, but he's _not_ a card carrying member of the guild Kurotaka. The big news about him was that he helped to kill the traitorous viscount of Wardes during operation Dunkirk. Also, word on the street is that Asuna of the Knights of Blood is his wife and that their daughter was logged in with him when the transition happened."

Kirito opened his mouth, and then thought better of it. It was probably best that people thought of it that way for now.

Turning next to Caramella. "You're the Faerie Swordswoman Caramel, one of Asuna's three hundred SAO survivors, I've heard some juicy gossip that you're really close to a certain last Prince of Albion. A friendship or something mo . . ."

"_Just_ friends." Caramella cut her off with a dangerous look that promised retribution if speculation ever appeared in print. "And it's Ca-ra-mel-la!"

"So you know about all of them, good." Jensen said gravely. "Then you must know plenty about us too. Now tell us what you're doing here Netzel and maybe this won't come back to bite you."

The girl's expression soured and she looked ready to clam up again. "Like I told Argo, it's nothing illegal. I was just trying to get up to date info as the story unfolds."

"You mean you were spying." Caramella said. Once the facade was stripped away, it really didn't sound too pleasant actually.

"I was investigating." Netzel corrected. "Good journalism depends on info that a reporter can trust. And where better to hear it then from the horse . . . err . . . Faerie's mouth. I just didn't expect the eve to give out like that. Guess I should lay off the Dew Milk."

It was starting to make sense to Kirito. In the end, he should have expected something like this, much more innocent, and also, much more stupid.

"You do realize, that this is an ongoing investigation, right?" Vakarian asked casually as Jensen paced beside him stroking at his goatee. "What you're doing could tip off the criminals we're trying to catch."

"And leaving everyone in the dark is going to start a panic!" Netzel countered with a huff of indignation. "Jeez, don't you even realize how starved everyone is for info? If you don't throw the Public a bone they'll start chasing their own tales." Never had a turn of phrase been more literal as the Cait Journalist carefully held her own tail close to her chest.

"Just look at the stuff Regin and Ryo are saying right now. You gotta fight speculation with facts! There's nothing I love more than sinking my teeth into a story, and there's real headline stuff here. But I'm not stupid."

"You seemed pretty happy to get in the way back in Arrun." Vakarian glowered unkindly. "How many times have you been caught trying to eavesdrop in Arrun tower? You know there's a war going on."

"And loose lips sink ships. I know." Netzel defended. "But listen, you know how much I eavesdrop, and you know that I've also never published anything really sensitive." She pressed her hands together, pleading.

"Maybe, maybe not." Jensen looked on suspiciously. "All I know for sure is that you were eavesdropping outside a certain Cait's window tonight while there's a murder investigation in progress. That doesn't look too good, Netzel."

"Wait." Argo raised hands to her temples as if trying to banish a boss level migraine that had developed in the last few minutes. "Netzel, just what are Ryo and Regin saying, I'm guessing their latest letters got posted today."

"Totally Dude!" The journalist answered. "ALfheim Daily has exclusive rights to post their letters on our boards." The girl fished around her person until she found what she as looking for in a thigh pouch. It was a thin sheet of cheap, locally produced paper, but that wasn't what was important. The important thing was the rows of perfectly spaced, perfectly regular katakana and hiragana script mixed in with the occasional kanji. "We even got our first batch of movable type finished so we can bulk print! This just went out to everyone."

Argo scanned the offered page and started cursing, fervently. "Everyone?"

"Everyone." Netzel confirmed. "On at least one board in every city."

"What is it?" Vakarian asked. Argo handed him the sheet before answering.

"Ryo's screaming his head off like an idiot, so that's normal." Argo rubbed at her eyes. "But it looks like Regin tis acting really regretful about the two latest murders. He's asking how the Faerie Lords plan to keep everyone safe when they can't even protect their own Watch commanders."

"Boys and girls struggling to be Lords and Ladies." Vakarian read, grimacing all the while. "He's saying this shows why we need firmer leadership then Sakuya and the others can provide."

"I can't say I don't disagree." Jensen said, stroking his goatee. "But then again, who is qualified?"

Argo narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Is Jen-san admitting he's a flawed human like the rest of us?"

"Just that nobody is trained for this, Ma'am." The Undine nodded once.

"Yeah, well that's what Regin has been saying." Netzel butted back in. "He and Ryo have been trading letters back and forth, and now they've got a big meeting set up in Arrun next week. They're going to have a debate in front of the whole city and set up moonlight mirror relays so that people in the other Cities can watch too."

"They can try, Lord Mortimer would never allow this." Vakarian said confidently.

"But Lady Sakuya would never allow Mortimer to censor them." Argo countered, ears twitching as she thought. "And neither would Alicia Rue."

"I doubt Thinker would let Mortimer do it either." Jensen added in. "He seems like a pretty upright guy."

"He is." Kirito and Caramella confirmed simultaneously.

If there was anyone among the Lords who he held in equal regard to Sakuya and Alicia, it was Thinker. The man was an idealist, it was something Kirito admired a lot.

"Yeah, it's not Thinker's style to shut anyone up." Caramella thought out loud. "But Yulier can get pretty scary if she thinks someone is stepping out of line."

"So I guess it depends how much he listens to his Secretary." Vakarian observed.

"They're engaged." Kirito answered. Or at least, they had been when last he'd heard. He knew that one of the girl's from Asuna's three hundred SAO survivors had been hired to make the weeding dress, but like with most things recently, nobody had quite gotten around to setting a date.

"Oh." The Salamander's tone went flat. "Well then, I guess we know how Thinker will vote. All hail Lady Yulier."

"You joke around, but this couldn't come at a worse time." Argo muttered under her breath.

"It was inevitable." Jensen said. "You'll see as you get older," the Undine investigator continued without noticing the way that Argo bristled, "People are never satisfied, and they're especially not satisfied when there's an emergency. This sort of thing always happens at the worst times."

Argo paced to and fro, tugging at the hem of her shirt. Finally, she stopped and turned back to Netzel. "Did you mean it"

"Huh?" The Reporter cocked her head.

"Fight speculation with facts, neh?" Argo pressed, urgency tinged her voice and she took a step towards the other girl.

Netzel grinned. "Sure did Dude!"

"Good." Argo said. "Then maybe we can share some of what we know." Her eyes narrowed, both eyelids, and the cat like slits of her irises. "Just so long as you don't put words in our mouth."

"Argo." Jensen grunted. "This isn't a good idea."

"Just hear me out sa." Argo took a discarded notebook from the writing desk and began to flip through the pages. "She's right, one way or another, people are either going to hear the truth, or they're going to start to speculate, and they're likely to believe whichever they hear first. Better they hear it from us, than someone like Regin twisting it for political gain."

"This sounds like a bad idea masquerading as a good idea." Vakarian observed.

"That's because that's what it is." Jensen told his partner. "Miss Argo, you know you can't say anything that will endanger the investigation."

"You're right, I can't." Argo agreed, flipping pages until she found what she was looking for. "But I can write a letter of introduction to Alicia Rue. If Netsu-chan wants answers, she can get them straight from the Faerie's mouth. Then at least people can hear both sides of the story."

"You'd do that?!" The journalist looked up, eyes brimming with wonder. "They won't even let me in the front door of Arrun tower anymore."

"Well maybe if you acted more like an actual journalist and less like a spy." Argo retored. "At least you're writing tis up to snuff. I liked your piece on the Government of Tristain, it tis a pretty good primer on seventeenth century nations sa."

"You mean you read that?!"

Argo shrugged. "I kept a copy when they were refreshing the message board. It saved me a bundle on research time." Argo ripped a page from her notebook and gave it to the journalist. "Here, this should at least get your foot in the door with Alicia."

Netzen looked at the note and then back to Argo. She looked like she wanted to hug the Information Broker. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. This is going to be huge, I can just smell it!"

"T-tis nothing." Argo stammered out. "Now if you'd let go of me."

"Oh? Oh! Right, sure thing Dude!" Netzel released her grip on Argo, sitting back down on the edge of the bed.

"Can she really _do_ that?" Vakarian asked with a hint of disbelief.

"Comes with being in good with Alicia Rue." Jensen explained. "In the meantime, Miss Netzel, if you'd come with us."

The Cait, starring at the letter of introduction like a new toy, had barely even notice Jensen speaking to her. "Neh?"

"One way or another, you did spy on an investigation. We have to be sure you don't do that again or you might pose a security risk." Jensen elaborated.

"Er, uhm."

"We're going to have you spend the night at Freelia Tower, under Watch observation. We'll have an officer from the morning patrol assigned to escort you back to Arrun tomorrow, you can be a pain there until we're done here."

"We suggest you come along quietly." Vakarian added. "Jensen-san here is pretty good with binding spells. I think it's how he expresses all his kinks."

An indignant but cooperative Netzel was led away by the Salamander Watchman, Jensen stopping at the door long enough to signal to Kirito. The Black Swordsman saddled up close to listen.

"Just out of curiosity," Jensen nodded over his shoulder to where Argo was gathering up her notes belonging to move to the replacement room, "Is there a reason why she seems to hate our guts?"

Kirito paused in his reply. It really wasn't his question to answer. But, he could say this much. "I guess . . . She's had her trust betrayed by the authorities before. And I think she she blames them for being the reason we were all logged in when the Transition happened."

"Sounds like a hell of grudge to keep bottled up." Jensen decided. "She does have it bottled up, right?"

If it were anyone else, or anytime else, Kirito would have answered 'Yes, definitely.' But this was Argo, and he knew her well enough to see that she was losing her cool. "I don't know." He admitted.

"Well then." The Undine retrieved his sunglasses from his pocket, masking his eyes once more. "You better keep a close eye on her." And then he was gone after his partner.

"Well, that was some interesting evening entertainment." Caramella snarked. "Anyone want to do an encore?"

Hiss came from Argo as she grabbed her pillow and stumbled out into the hall in search of their replacement room. The last little bit of excitement had expended her last bit of energy. "Do me a favor and feed Suisen. I'm going to bed."


	13. Nightmares

_Argo slept but she didn't rest. Her mind was exhausted, but she hadn't stopped thinking, she couldn't, it was like an involuntary twitch, a spasm she couldn't stop. Even in the darkness her waking thoughts invaded her dreams, turning her slumber into a restless mess of half imagined half real imagery, sounds, voices, and blurred diagrams. Less dream and more nightmare. _

_Ideas ran circles in her head, fears, speculation, questions, tenuous answers rising and falling out of the sea of minuta that she had painstakingly collected. She felt like her brain was about to burst._

_Rio the self absorbed jerk with ambitions of leadership, and Regin the voice of reason among the dissenters to the rule of their Leaders. Netzel the reporter, chasing the scoop wherever it took her. Tobi and Ryo found together, their skills hadn't helped them. Tobi's sword had been missing, had he tried to defend himself? _

_The Investigators, watch officers Jensen and Vakarian. Confident, condescending, dismissive of any new facts. They thought they had it all figured out, a serial killer on the loose targeting high level players, and were more interested in gathering evidence that supported their conclusion then finding out if it was the truth. Argo knew they couldn't be trusted, not with attitudes like that. _

_Novair's sightless eyes. The slashed throats, the killer's mark. A serial killer on the loose, had Laughing Coffin been reborn in this world? Sakuya, Lady of the Sylphs, looking sick as she saw the dead body of her friend. Mortimer observing clinically. Alicia voicing suspicions, the cute facade gone for a minute, she'd looked old, much too old for that young face. _

_Argo turned in her sleep, tail twisting out of the way as she tried to bury her face further into her pillow. Cait Syth eyes, adjusted to the dark, even with the blinds closed, the light was enough to cast a sullen, bloody glow as it shone through her eyelids. _

_And further back, past the Transition, past ALfheim to something far more sinister. She'd actually been scarred when she realized what she'd walked into. The price of being vindicated as a conspiracy theorist was learning just how useless your tinfoil hat really was._

_Something big was happening, something very big, and very dangerous, and probably the only reason she was safe was that she was unnoticed and unimportant. Just some girl trying to make sense of a traumatic experience._

_The SAO Taskforce easily possessed the resources to quickly investigate any lead that lead through the net. They could have forced RETCO to tell them what was at the top of the World Tree. In fact, with their resources . . . they should have been able to track the traffic from the remaining Nerve Gears no matter where they were being bounced. With the full cooperation of RETCO and the service providers, even being careful, that shouldn't have taken more than a couple of days. So why hadn't they made more progress?_

_Delayed trauma they'd called it, as if she couldn't control herself. It wasn't her fault, she'd just become submerged in her character and thought she could help. But now everything was okay, there were adults to do the 'hard stuff' while she put her life back together. At the end of it, she had wondered if the special victims councilor was going to hand her a lollipop and balloon. What she did suspect was that her file had gotten a red mark attached to it so that no one in the SAO taskforce would ever take her seriously again._

_She was being talked down to by a person who had never faced death every day until survival instincts became second nature, who had never seen a person die in front of them, who had never become friends with people whose real names and identities were a secret. He didn't know, but that wasn't what damning, he didn't even want to understand. She'd never been so disgusted in her life. The people who had died deserved better than this._

_He'd seemed concerned, her councilor, when she'd spoken to him last, he was convinced she was just hysterical. The conversation had taught her one thing, the man was an expert shrink, but he knew next to nothing about the subjects he was supposed to be familiarizing himself with. She suspected the other SAO councilors were the same._

_Asking her contact with the SAO Incident Task force what they had done with the Pics she'd sent him. She'd known something was wrong the moment they'd been so dismissive. She hadn't really expected to be taken seriously, but the information should have piqued at least a little sincere curiosity, enough to tell her if she she was crazy or not. _

_The sudden editing of the images had been extremely suspicious when viewed from the perspective of ALfheim's publisher, RETCO Progress. Why hide something that could just be changed in game instead? That was SOP when players got wind of something juicy. Why waste so many resources covering it up when the speculation among the player base would be good for business?_

_She'd logged everything, taken images of all the forums and image boards where she'd found the original screenshots and then compared them to the edited pics. When she'd realized what was happening she'd taken measures, monitoring the spread and gradual disappearance of the original screenshots from the web, updating her emails to the SAO Incident Task Force all the way. _

_She'd known it hadn't been much and she'd known she could be mistaken. In the end, she was just someone trying to not feel useless while her friends were still trapped. She wasn't a brilliant Information Broker, Argo the Rat only Existed in Aincrad. But she had to be sure. Maybe it was just coincidence and maybe she was just crazy. If someone had been willing to tell her how she was wrong, show her why it couldn't be the case, she thought she could have lived with it. That wasn't what they'd done. _

_She remembered seeing without really seeing, stopping, staring at the picture for the longest time. A birdcage at the top of a tree, and what was in that birdcage. It had to be coincidence, just coincidence. Real life didn't have a story or a narrative it was trying to tell. But maybe the universe had a bad sense of humor._

_Surfing the net in her darkened bedroom, curled up in her chair, body still weak and emaciated. A trio of monitors set side by side, fed her everything from tech blogs to live news streams. So much had happened in two years, scandals had come and gone, movies she hadn't even heard of were in theaters. And of course the games. SAO hadn't killed the VRMMO industry like she'd suspected it would. It looked like she owed Kii-bou twenty thousand yen. That was, if she ever saw him again, he hadn't logged on to the survivor's forum. Maybe once school started. She scrolled with capacitive surface on top of her mouse, scanning her third forum for the day._

_It started off innocently enough. She'd just wanted to know. Surfing the web sites, asking around, looking for clues in odd places. It had been her way of coping, something she could do with her time while she waited for school to start. Some way to understand what had happened to herself and the others, and maybe, just maybe, discover why three hundred people hadn't escaped._

_She hadn't felt like celebrating. Not as long as there was anyone left who had not been freed from their Nerve Gear. Three hundred people hadn't woken up, and it hadn't been long before she'd realized that Aa-chan was among them. At first she hadn't believed it, but gradually, denial had turned to mute dread and acceptance. How did someone like Aa-chan, who'd never played a game before in her life that didn't run on her phone, end up leading the clearing effort to victory? How did someone who had fought so hard not get to go home? In her exuberance, she'd forgotten something about the real world. It wasn't fair._

_It had been weeks before she'd been allowed to leave the hospital, and that alone was a miracle of modern medicine. Someone had been optimistic that the survivors would wake up one day, drugs and therapy developed originally for coma patients had been repurposed to keep the catatonic players from wasting away completely, which was the only reason she could lift her head, much less, speak and feed herself. When she'd finally been checked out, she'd still needed a cane just to walk. It didn't matter, she didn't need to be able to run or fight in this world, that was never what she'd been best at. Now, all she wanted to do was find answers for their own sake. _

_She was free from SAO, but she had still been a prisoner in her own body. When she'd seen herself in the mirror, watching while the nurse cut her long, filthy hair, she hadn't recognized the gaunt looking girl with sunken eyes. She looked so small, diminished, like a famine victim or someone struck by some wasting disease. That would change with time, her parents had brought her a tablet so that she could start catch up with the world while she recovered, she'd read up on everything she could about the physical therapy she and the other survivors would be expected to complete. And that was when she had learned something else, and her excitement had crumbled away . . . _

_She remembered waking up, or rather, her real senses reasserting themselves as her Nerve Gear logged off from the SAO forum and powered down. At first her eyes had refused to focus properly. For the longest time, she'd simply lain flat on her back, feeling her own breathing and heartbeat for the first time in over two years. She felt her eyes beginning to sting, by the time the nurses got to her, the bedside equipment reporting that her Nerve Gear had shut down, her vision had once more been blurred. They'd done it, Kii-bou and Aa-chan had done it._

_When the system announcement had chimed with a synthetic voice that hadn't been heard since the first day two years ago, Argo had been on the seventy fourth floor of Aincrad, following up a rumor with one of her contacts. It was no secret that the monsters were getting tougher with each floor and that soon the leading players were going to reach the level cap built into SAO. In order to keep up their safety margins and preserve the current clearers who were their best shot at clearing the game, they were going to need to start acquiring and relying on ultra rare drop and quest items. Argo had come to the 74th floor for just that reason, following up on NPC rumors about a legendary forge hidden in a secret area and run by a group of NPC blacksmiths offering a quest for a rare sword. _

_The automated system bell had rang. The voice announcing the game had been cleared and that all players should stand bye to be logged out. Argo had only really understood that it was really happening when she realized that the NPCs had vanished from their shop stalls and that people were beginning to vanish in flashes of light, people laughing or crying as they began to understand that it was really happening. But how?! There were still twenty five floors left to clear._

_The glow had overtaken her and her contact, a Ninja build who had given her one last look. "Catch you on the next one, Argo . . ." And then the light was surrounding her as well, filling her vision until all she could see was the almost forgotten field of white that signaled a logout. _

_But this wasn't how she remembered it, a column of shadow had appeared at the center of the white field and as she watched, she could still hear._

_"Argo-san . . . Argo! Please, hurry you have to wake up, you have to wake up!" The tiny voice shouted, incredibly close, horse and desperate. Why would her little sister be shouting at her . . . Except she didn't have a little sister, the only voice it could be was Suisen. The Nav Pixie sounded scared, on the verge of crying. _

_White turned to red, and then deepened to near blackness, still darkest at the center of her vision. Then it was time to wake up._

Argo's eyes fluttered open, sucking in a breath as she shot up in bed. "Suisen?"

Her eyes widened still further as she tried to understand what she was seeing. She looked up. It had to still be a dream, it was too dark for her to see this clearly.

No, she realized, her vision, her Cait Syth eyes could adjust easily to this level of Darkness. That was why it seemed almost painfully bright, and also, why she could see the person standing at the foot of her bed.

Tall, much taller than her, and thin. His features were as sharp as an ax head, ashen skin peeking out from beneath the brim of wide fedora hat along with hair like twisted black wire.

He was a Spriggan, like Kii-bou, and in every way he was the opposite.

Form fitting clothing, dark vest and pleated pants, revealed a lean, speed type body. If he wasn't wearing black, then it was close to the color of a moonless midnight.

She was frozen, certain that this still had to be a dream a nightmare. There were supposed to be watchmen posted in the residential district, Alden's best, including plenty of Faeries with high perception levels to counter any stealth attempts. At her side, she could hear Caramella snoring softly. Her hesitation gave the man time to recover from his own mild surprise.

The silky noise of a sword sliding softly free from its scabbard. A short black blade, slender and vicious. Argo's eyes followed the edge, curving smoothly from its point. The lower half of the reverse edge was brutally serrated.

The Spriggan cocked his head, savoring the moment of indecision as his lips spread in a tooth bearing smile.

And then her fear was broken, overridden by something else in that moment of confusion. At no point in the following heartbeat did Argo think, there was no point in something as stupid and frivolous as thought, this was something far more primal, or rather, feline. Her legs began to coil on their own, tail drawing in close. Instincts that she didn't even know she had, that she hadn't been born with, taking control. An angered hiss fought its way from her throat.

The sword slashed downward, edge so sharp it almost seemed to cut the dim light shinning in from from the opened window. "No!" A small voice screamed.

Argo pounced.

* * *

Caramella was a heavy sleeper, prided herself on it in fact, and on not having much trouble falling asleep just about anywhere. Back in Aincrad, before people had heard of sleep PKs, she'd camped out in the dungeon and field Safe Zones rather than bother to hike all the way back to town. There were very few things that could instantly rouse her once she'd fallen asleep. An enraged cat girl slamming into her was one of them.

The Swordswoman woke to crashing, shouting, and the sensation of having the wind driven from her lungs as Argo landed heavily on her stomach.

"What in the hell!" Caramella gasped as she came fully awake, head slamming unceremoniously into the wooden bed frame, causing her to see stars as she rolled off of her mattress, taking her blanket with her.

The only answer was a hissing -yowl- like someone was strangling a cat. Eyes blinking fast, Caramella's head turned towards the two blurs of motion that were all she could make out in the gloom. Not because it was too dark, but because they were too fast.

"Jesus!" The Swordswoman shouted as she stumbled back, narrowly missing a close encounter with the keen edge of a sword and an even closer encounter with a back pedaling, snarling Argo.

She didn't bother trying to figure out what was happening. All she knew was that someone was trying to kill them, that was good enough for the immediate future. Falling backwards, Caramella converted her motion into a roll, coming to her knees beside the bedroom's door and grabbing for her sword propped up in the corner.

Blade slashing free from its scabbard and dancing up into a guard she tried to make sense of the fight. On one hand there was Argo bouncing and rolling off the walls like a deranged cat. Caramella didn't recognize the fighting style, but it seemed to be keeping her alive, evading the attacker's blade as it licked out in quick, lethal strikes. On the other they had their attacker, tall, dark, and terrifying, caught halfway between the window and the door by the small Cait's flurried attacks.

It was hard to say who exactly was winning, if anyone, this wasn't a fight of swords or even really any sort of fight but a furball, and now Caramella was getting stuck in it.

"Argo, get back!" She shouted, storming up over her bed, sword leading in a rapid thrust.

Argo's only reply was a harsh "Nyaah!" that left Caramella worried. There was something wrong with that girl, the way she moved low and fast, and the way she attacked with teeth and nails, like she'd gone feral.

'Please tell me she didn't huff some bad catnip.' The Swordswoman thought as her sword met with their attacker's and then suddenly went past, the would be Assassin sidestepping and letting his sword twirl by its hilt around his wrist. 'Shit!'

That would have been a lethal surprise a few months ago, but Caramella knew a little bit about real world sword fighting now after crossing swords in Albion. She didn't try to guard, there wasn't enough space or time either way. Instead, the Swordwsoman raced past assassin, diving out of the reach of a swing that would have otherwise proven fatal.

Argo distracted the attacker again before he could follow up, pouncing onto his shoulders before being rudely elbowed and tossed into the far wall. Suddenly, the Assassin lost all interest in Caramella, switching his attention to the stunned Cait Girl trying to regain her footing. Sword flashing up high, he grinned before thrusting down at the prone Argo, aiming fatally for her throat.

"Stop!" A tiny voice squeaked at the top of equally miniscule lungs.

A pair of translucent gossamer wings shot across the room like a tiny comet, striking the man across the face. He reached up to paw at the sudden annoyance, Suisen clinging on in hopes of blinding him. But the girl wasn't a Vespid Knight, or even one the of Wild Pixies. Nav Pixies didn't have any offensive magic or spells, possessing only their own miniscule physical strength. And that wasn't nearly enough.

The man realized what had struck him, reaching up, he grabbed hold of Suisen and began to squeeze.

"No!" Caramella roared, charging back in as the pixie was torn from the man's face and tossed brutally aside almost ricocheting off the wall before vanishing into the darkness. This time the Assassin spun back from her thrust, a shower of runes swirling around him before collecting in the palm of his left hand. The smoky black binds that erupted from the floor caught Caramella by surprise, encircling her wrist and ankles before she could jump out of the way. She could still move, a little, but the Assassin was free to dance out of the way of her blows and deliver his own with impunity.

'Not good!'

Sword flourishing once more, he was interrupted as the door behind him was sliced free from its hinges, the Cavalry had arrived, Kirito crashing in with a swift sword stroke that sent the Assassin jumping back, half blocking half dodging.

The man paused for a heartbeat as if judging the odds, this was more than he'd bargained for, Caramella was sure of it. Some damned high DPS Ganker who'd decided to try and get the drop on them and now found the tables turned.

'That's what you get you bastard.' She thought fiercely.

Her suspicions were born out as the attacker leaped back towards the window, dropping clear only to flash by a moment later as he summoned his wings and shot into the night sky.

"Caramella?" Kirito questioned.

She shook her head. "We're fine!" She didn't really know if that was the case, Argo was starting to stir feebly, but she wasn't talking, and Suisen was nowhere in sight.

"Just go!" It didn't take a genius to add two and two and get four. Their killer was right in front of them!

Kirito didn't even bother to nod, he was already out the window and giving chase as people began to peak into the room, the Inn keeper at the lead.

Caramella groaned. There was not time for this right now.

"You again?!" The Cait Woman hissed under her breath. The Inn Keeper was a sight to behold in her nightgown, one hand resting on her hip while another held a hefty looking battleaxe. She didn't look too particular about who she was going to use the weapon on.

"Yeah, us again." Caramella replied shortly. "Now do you mind, or could you maybe get these untied, please?"

Moments later a mage had dispelled the bindings, causing them to dissolve back into vapor, leaving the Swordwoman free to check on the dazed and still angrily snapping Argo.

A hand lashed out, trying to claw at Caramella's face. "Hey, hey, snap out of it!" She shouted as she waved for two of the other guests to help hold Argo down. What was wrong with her?

Looking into the girl's eyes, Caramella only saw narrow, cat-like slits, completely focused on whatever happened to be the closest moving thing. Her tail beat back and forth anxiously, tapping out a regular drumbeat against the floor. Slowly, so slowly, the tail lashing and the hissing started to die down, breathing growing steady. Like she was coming down from an adrenaline rush, Argo got control of herself.

"Cara . . . mella?" She panted, blinking rapidly. Her eyes had stopped switching back and forth, focusing on the Swordwoman's face, regaining the clear signs of intelligence that had vanished in her frenzy.

"You alright Argo?" Caramella asked, checking the girl over. There were some cuts and scratches, and a few spots that looked like they would shortly be bruised, but Argo was still in one pieced.

"Y-yeah." The Information Broker sat up slowly, wincing as she rubbed at her shoulder and side. "Tis nothing. I'll live." She stopped checked herself, eyes going wide. "Suisen?!"

"Nobody move!" Caramella ordered. "We have a Nav Pixie in here and we can't have anyone stepping on her."

Murmurs of affirmative went out from the gathered Caits, darkness adjusted eyes searching before someone called out. "I found her!" It was the severe looking Cait from before who had questioned Jensen about the investigation. The girl reached down, cupping something small in her hands with a grimace.

"Suisen?!" Argo shouted. "Suisen! Speak to me sa!"

The Pixie was in a bad way, one arm bent at an unnatural angle, the other almost certainly dislocated. One of her wings was no better, bent halfway down its length nearly at a right angle with her back. But she was still breathing, and was conscious enough to speak even as she shivered.

"Argo-san." She whimpered miserably, from here it looked like the girl was trying, and failing, to keep up a brave face.

"No, shush, shush, don't say anything." Argo told her fervently before looking up. "We need a healer, naow!"

"Faerie magic's good for taking care of Faerie or human injuries." The Inn keeper shook her head. "You need a vet more than a healer." She turned to another Cait. "Idra, go dig up Raz at his place, tell him we've got a hurt mob that needs help right now. And take some people with you to be safe." She shook her head. "Tonight is not a night to be out alone."

The distant sound of alarm bells began to waft in through the window, drawing Caramella's attention. "You got this?" She asked quickly.

"We'll be fine." Argo said uncertainly. "Suisen tis going to be just fine, just fine." She repeated, lips pressing tightly together as she cupped the Pixie carefully to her chest. "Go and back up Kii-bou." Argo said. "Bring that bastard down nya!"

Now she was talking her language. Caramella vaulted the table and was out the window, wings spreading from her back as she kicked off from the side of the inn. It was only then that she realized how ridiculous she looked, skirting the rooftops of Freelia in nothing but a pair of drawstring shorts and a nightshirt.

'Well, no time to regret that now!' She thought as she started to scan for Kirto and the killed. They weren't hard to find, just follow the shouting and the pursuing guards trying to keep up.

The Attacker might have miscalculated, but he definitely wasn't a novice. There wasn't any way for him to escape through the air, not with the Night Watch on his tail. His only chance would be to vanish into the streets of the city, to hide until the coast was clear, or sneak away on foot in the dark.

The Assassin skimmed below rooftop level through the narrow streets and alleyways. Freelia was built to have a Fairy Tail feel, a place where any number of adventures might be hidden, which lent to its streets being as twisting and byzantine as any found in York.

But good as he was, Kirito was even better, keeping track the entire way and following without losing a step. From her vantage above, Caramella watched as the Black Swordsman flared his wings, nearly killing his forward speed before kicking off a stone wall at a tee intersection, tucking into a horizontal dive as his wings fold back.

Despite herself, she couldn't help thinking it would have looked a hell of a lot more impressive if Kirito wasn't likewise dressed in a pair of black shorts and matching t-shirt. There needed to be some sort of law against attacking people in their bedrooms while they slept!

This couldn't go on for much longer, the Assassin was running out of city and both he and the watch knew it. Kirito was driving him towards an open square where a half dozen mages and more than a dozen melee equipped watchmen were waiting. Out in the open, he wasn't going to have a chance to dodge their binds and stun spells.

They reached the square, still flying at reckless speed. The mages were ready for him, unleashing their prepared attacks, darkness magic based binds and wind based Stunner Spells filled the air. The first two Stunners were badly aimed and missed wide, but the Assassin was caught in the third spell, a bind that from the looks of it, that was a lot higher level than the one he had used on Caramella.

The Swordwoman cheered as the black clad figure was swallowed in the magically conjured ropes, bound up so tightly he could barely squirm, much less evade the half dozen stuns spells that struck a moment later. Caramella's exuberance died as swiftly as it had blossomed. The assassin blurred and then burst into a cloud of smoke, the binds falling away to reveal an apothecary sign skidding to a stop along the roadway.

"Kirito, behind you!" Caramella shouted down as she saw the black shape balancing atop the now empty sign frame that Kirito had just overshot as he chased the decoy.

The Swordsman spun around in midair, Wings powering in full reverse as feet skidded across cobblestones. Kirito was overtaken by the melee fighters, Cait tamers wielding whips and staffs, perfectly equipped to subdue an opponent.

Another spinning cloud of runes, three words, stacked, flashed into a single larger rune and then burst into light and sound so intense that it even blinded Caramella as she hovered in the air above. "Gyaah!"

When her vision cleared again she caught sight of Kirito stumbling back, holding a Cait Tamer who had just been kicked aside. The assassin was nowhere in sight.

"Does anyone see him! Did anyone get a good look!" The watch officer directing the squads shouted down from his vantage nearby.

"I think I saw him heading South, he was chanting something!"

"Fan out in groups of four, don't let him get away."

The watch was already dispersing onto the side streets, trying to find the trail before it went cold. Everyone save Kirito who stood calmly sheathing his sword, shoulder's slouching now that the battle was over.

Caramella blinked away the last of the spots as she came to touch down beside the Black Swordsman. "You okay?"

The Swordsman nodded back. "You? He didn't hit you anywhere, did he? What about Argo?"

"N-no. And Argo's fine, but Suisen . . . " As the adrenaline rush began to wear off, Caramella felt herself beginning to shiver. That had been way to close. Something warm came to rest gently on her head and she found herself lightly batting aside Kirito's offered hand. She shook her head. "What the hell are we doing standing around here?!"

"Waiting for someone to report a spotting." Kirito answered quietly.

"But . . . " Caramella was cut off as Kirito raised a hand to his left eye.

"I only caught a bit of it, but he was casting another spell right after that flash bang. I know the runes, it was the Spriggan Illusion spell Mimic. If he got out of sight, then he almost definitely had enough time to complete it."

Caramella paused as she took this detail inn, she was suddenly aware of the lights coming on all up and down the streets, and the many cat eared heads that were appeared in windows and peering out from door ways. If Kirito was right, then they'd be searching for a needle in a stack of needles. The Watch might still be able to catch him if they locked the city down quickly enough, or . . . no . . . She shook her head in frustration. By the time they could do that, he'd be long gone, or else hidden someplace where he could wait for things to cool off and then slip away.

"I warned the Watch Officers, and they'll spread the word." Kirito turned and began to pace slowly back down the street. "I'm not skilled enough with magic spells to reveal a Mimic illusion. It'll be up to the Watch to uncover him and call for support."

"So what do we do now?" She asked, feeling disgustingly useless. He'd been so close, she could almost have reached out and touched him. "He just dumped himself in our laps and we let him get away damn it!"

"Not . . . necessarily. We didn't catch him, but he did leave a lead." Kirito stopped in his tracks. "Come on, we need to go check on Argo, and also Abigail-san, and then . . ."

"And then?"

"This Assassin . . . He was pretty skilled. Even with a stealth build he had plenty of tricks to defend himself with and get away. I bet he was one of the Spriggan's top players before the Transion." Kirito reasoned. "And if he was, I think we need to go talk to Big Sis."


	14. Rip Jack

Halkegenia Online v2.0 – Chapter 6 - Part 1

The investigators had made their return to Arrun as quickly as they had departed, the journey back flown through the predawn light.

Morning had overtaken them just as they reached the World Tree, but there was no time to rest. The few hours of sleep they had gotten the night before would have to do. They needed to follow up their lead as fast as they could if they were going to catch up to the Killer before he could strike again.

And Kirito had no doubt that the Assassin who had struck in the middle of the night was their killer. They now had a face to attach to the crimes. But something about that bothered him.

The Assassin knew the illusion spell Mimic. This heavily implied that he was a Spriggan, though he could have just as easily have been wearing the mask of a Spriggan to throw off pursuit. Spriggans were the expected race for Assassins and Rogues after all, and the killer would have wanted to preserve his Cait Syth form to evade the Watch. Also, why risk revealing his true appearance at all?

There was only one way to be sure. Argo had gotten a brief glimpse of him, and so had Kirito and Caramella. It hadn't been much, but one of Freelia's more artistically gifted Watch Officers had been able to draw sketches from their descriptions. The likenesses weren't perfect, but they agreed closely enough that someone might be able to confirm that it was a real Spriggan by attaching a name to the face. But for that, they would need to talk to someone who knew all of the high level Spriggan Players.

When they had reached Arrun tower, their party had split up, Vakarian going to lodge an official report with Lord Mortimer and the provisional head of the Arrun Watch, while Abigail had retreated to her lab, the Spriggan girl fretting all the way that she hadn't been of more help. Argo had also parted ways with them, but not because of the investigation.

It was Suisen.

The Tamers had been able to treat the Pixie's injuries, setting her arm and straightening her damaged wing so that it could heal properly. But the girl's physical condition had only grown worse, slipping into fever and delirium, and even the Cait Syth's Tamer prodigy, Raz, had been at a loss for what to do. In the end, the Cait's could only suggest taking her to the Wild Pixies for treatment.

As soon as they had reached the center of the City, Argo had broken off, heading towards the Governor's Mansion where the Pixie delegation had been staying, a small, straw wrapped box in her hands, Suisen, swaddled up in handkerchiefs and laid atop a small brick of ice to keep her temperature down.

Kirito could only hope that the Pixie would be okay, especially for Argo's sake. The cynical, sometimes spiteful Information Broker of Aincrad had really grown a soft spot for her tiny Partner. The only thing Kirito could compare it to was the way he and Asuna felt about Yui.

And that was why they needed to end this quickly. They'd gotten lucky last night, very lucky, things had come to the very edge of disaster.

At least he didn't have to worry about telling Asuna and Yui. When he'd stopped by home, he'd found a letter reminding him that the two would be visiting the Capital as the guests of Prince Wales and the Countess of Windsor. At least they would be someplace safe.

It hadn't been hard to find Morgiana. The nominal First Lady of Muisca was a popular figure among the members of her faction, not to mention her Kurotaka retainers. Simply asking at the Kurotaka guild hall had been enough to get directions from one spiky haired Spriggan now manning the front desk in place of the former Guild NPC.

"Big Sis?" The young looking man asked as he propped elbows onto the desk. "Yeah, she got back from Muisca a couple days ago, but she hasn't been in much. She has Shirishi running things right now."

That seemed strange to Kirito, from what he'd seen of the Lady of the Spriggans, he would have expected her to be more hands on.

"Can you tell us where to find her?" The Undine at his side leaned in. "We need to talk to her immediately about an investigation."

The Spriggan's eyes widened and he nodded seriously, reaching under the desk to pull out a large notebook. "Just a sec, I think I've got her house number here someplace." A few flips of the pages and he found what he was looking for.

"Two Ninety Four Lagruge Street, Central District." The Spriggan reported. "I hope that helps."

"It's a big help." Kirito acknowledged. "Thanks."

On the way out of the Guild Hall, the Black Swordsman couldn't help but notice the Spriggan's standing at guard, both in full ancient grade armor and hefting matching obsidian tipped spears. It seemed that the attacks were starting to have an affect on the confidence of even the stronger Faeries.

"You really think bringing the Lady of the Spriggans in on this is a good idea Kirito-san?" Jensen asked as they stepped back out onto the street.

"I don't really think we have a choice." Kirito couldn't help but recall what Morgiana had said at their first meeting. She knew all of the strongest Spriggan players. That would probably include knowing about their builds as well. Given that Argo hadn't had a file on him, that made the Spriggan Lord their best lead at the moment.

"Seems a little weird that she wouldn't be coming into her own Guild Hall." Caramella observed as she brought up the rear, the Trio of Faeries starting at a walk down the street from the impressive Guild Hall of the most notorious Spriggan Guild. "Well, let's just get this over with." She said reluctantly.

"Problem?" Jensen asked.

The Swordswoman stretched her arms behind her back. "I'm just not crazy about all this stuffy Lords and Ladies stuff."

Kirito tried not to smile. Morgiana might have been Lady Morgiana of the Spriggans, First Lady of Muisca now, but he doubted anyone who ha met her would ever call her 'stuffy'. "Just wait and see." He said, trying hard to keep the amusement out of his voice.

Lagruge Street in the Central District turned out to be a pretty high class area, the yellow bricked roadway lined with expensive apartments and partly shaded by overhead canvas awnings that provided shelter for delicate vines and creepers that grew up the sides of the facades.

The houses reminded Kirito of Salemberg back in Aincrad, but the style was definitely pure ALfheim. Once he would have been amazed by the shear variety and attention to detail in the different districts of Arrun made possible by both the dedication of ALfheim's design staff and the tremendous power of the Cardinal System's Procedural Generation Algorithms which had allowed the GM AI to perform many of the tedious functions of aesthetic design utilizing the templates, directions, and art assets provided to it by the game developers.

Even the fact that this achievement no longer amazed him was amazing in its own way. Though Kirito supposed that every Faerie in Tristain should have been grateful for the level of completeness in the Cities that they now inhabited. It was only thanks to the thorough work of the game developers that the settlements that had been actualized were livable at all in a real world.

They stopped at 294 Lagruge Street, a small, two story townhouse that was the last in a set of ten placed wall to wall beside an archway sheltering a narrow cross street.

"So this is the place." Kirito said.

"It's nice," Jensen observed, "But not exactly what I was expecting for a Faction Leader's place." The comment annoyed Kirito for some reason, as if the Undine was being a little too judgmental.

"Probably just a place to crash. I can respect that." Carmella said. "So, you want to knock or should I."

"I got it." Jensen squeezed past the two sword users and took hold of the brass knocker, striking down twice heavily.

There was a long pause. Jensen knocked again. "Lady Morgiana? Lady Morgiana are you in? I'm Watch Officer Jensen with the Arrun city watch. We need to speak with you about an ongoing investigation."

"Maybe she's not in." Kirito suggested. Chances were she'd already left for the day, but Jensen simply shook his head, pointing to a small wooden cutout hanging beside the mailbox.

A Chibi-Morgiana held her spear in one hand, giving a victory sign with her other, stuck out her tongue, and winked. At the bottom of the sign, a message had been painted in by hand.

Big Sis Is In!

Fascinated, Kirito turned the sign over to examine the reverse facing which showed the Chibi-Morgiana running off with another hand painted caption.

Big Sis Is Out!

"Did someone pull this woman out of a Manga or something?" Caramella wondered aloud what they were all thinking silently. It had definitely occurred to Kirito that his nominal Faction Leader was more than a bit of a LARPer.

"Wait, I hear something." Jensen grunted, stepping out of the way of the door as Kirito and Caramella climbed the porch steps.

Kirito heard the lock clicking over, the heavy oak door swinging open smoothly on oiled brass hinges.

"Lady Morgiana, we're . . ." Jensen's introduction died in his mouth.

Kirito hadn't exactly known what to expect of Morgiana in her own home. But he hadn't expected the Lady of the Spriggans to answer her door wearing lacy black panties and a loose black tank top.

Her un-braided hair falling loosely past her waist and feathing about her forehead like it had been uncombed in days, the Spriggan woman squinted out past her doorway, leaning sleepily against the wall as she rubbed at one darkly ringed, watery eye. "Yes?"

"Uhm . . . Lady Morgiana?" Jensen stumbled.

Kirito had to guess that even with real life police experience, beautiful women coming to the door in nothing but their underwear wasn't very common outside of novels and TV. For his own part, Kirito simply politely averted his eyes, raising a hand to blind Caramella when the Swordswoman let out a small squeak.

"Can I help you with something?" Morgiana yawned, stretching slowly in a way that lifted the hem of her shirt and caused Jensen and Caramella to shift their attention for a brief moment.

Kirito sighed, why did he always have to be the only professional one? "Morgiana-san, it's very important that we talk to you about an urgent investigation, but you weren't at the guild hall or Arrun tower."

"Oh, so you're with the watch now Kirito-kun?" The Spriggan woman perked up a little. "Yeah, I've been feeling pretty lousy the last couple days, feels like the flu, must be something I caught from the local food we've been eating. So, an investigation huh?"

"Not an investigation, _the_ investigation." Jensen finally recovered enough to answer. "You've heard about the murders, right?"

That was enough to open Morgiana's eyes. The Spriggan Lord was fully alert now, gray eyes looking them all over before coming to a decision. "Alright, I'm guessing this is something you don't want broadcast to the whole street." She waved into the dim interior of her home. Turning, Morgiana stocked back down the short entryway, tugging absently at the hem of her shirt.

The inside of the house was dimly lit, the blinds and curtains all shut and drawn as if its sole occupant had been trying hard to sleep through the day. The living room told a similar story with a pile of blankets fallen to the ground beside the couch and a coffee table covered in bottles of juice and half eaten plates of toast and fruit.

Morgiana flopped down heavily on the couch, half reclining as she waved to the surrounding chairs. "Sorry for the mess, I've just been trying to sleep this off the last couple of days." She said flatly. "Now you said you're the ones who've been ivestigating the murers?"

"Un." Kirito took one of the offered seats, meeting Morgiana's gray eyes. "We just got back from Freelia, and we might have a lead."

"But you're not going to like it." Caramella added.

"Ok," Morgiana shifted, leaning forward on the couch, "Shoot."

So they told her about what they had learned so far. The victims and the way they had been killed, the run in with the assassin and the man's narrow escape, and the description that they had put together in the aftermath.

Kirito produced the illustrations from the inside of his coat, handing them to Morgiana whose expression was now thoroughly unamused. A short hiss blew through the Spriggan's teeth as she tossed the drawings back onto the coffee table, she pulled her hands slowly down her face.

"Yeah, he's a Spriggan alright. Though I never thought he'd be capable of something like this."

"So you know him?" Jensen asked neutrally.

"Not personally." Morgiana clarified with a tight grin. "But his reputation proceeds him everyplace in Spriggan Territory, or it would if I hadn't booted him and his friends months ago. Spriggan Assassin Rip Jack." She looked at the way Jensen and Caramella tilted their heads. "Yeah, its referencing exactly what you think."

"Rip . . . Jack . . . " Kirito muttered.

"Jack the Ripper." Caramella elaborated. "He was an infamous British Serial Killer who terrorized London near the end of the 19th century. His victims were famously know to have their throats cut."

Kirito felt his heart sinking. He'd almost been hoping that these murders were somehow politically motivated, but now, it appeared they might be looking at a nascent Laughing Coffin type killer.

"The method of murder is right." Jensen agreed. "But Jack the Ripper targeted prostitutes, not government officials, and he severely mutilated his victims after death."

"Sawing through the throat like that isn't mutilation?" Caramella asked. "Look, maybe the guy went off the deep and after the transition and decided he was going to follow in the footsteps of his hero. If he's the kind of guy who got a rush playing a villain in VR, then he might have decided to it for real now."

"Leave the profiling to the people with a little police experience." Jensen said under his breath.

Caramella snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure you had a lot of run ins with crazy murderers on the streets of Ikebukuro. But don't knock this, I did a stint at the Black Iron Fortress guarding the imprisoned PKers and robbers back in Aincrad."

Caramella's arms came closer together, the sworswoman grimacing as she recalle. "You get curious y'know? What kind of person could do that? So you end up asking them. They claim all sort of things, some of them had it in them to begin with, some felt like they were liberated to do as they pleased in the Death Game, some were just bored, and some . . . the game just ate away at them, it was supposed to be their release, and when it became real . . ." She shook her head "They just let it build up until they popped. I switched back to patrols after a while, I felt like that place was going to eat my fricking soul."

The room was quiet until Caramella finished. It wasn't a topic that anyone wanted to linger on with conversation. What was important was that they had exactly that sort of person loose now, and his chosen profession as a high level assassin who had been banished from his home territory did suggest a strongly antisocial player.

"Then, Morgiana-san, can you ask around and see if there's anyone who has seen Rip Jack since the Transition." Kirito thought carefully, while this wasn't a game anymore, the members of Laughing Coffin had often hidden out in the less frequented towns or isolated areas of the lower floors. There was a chance that a murderer in this new world would do the same. Especially if his real face had been seen. There was also a chance he would return to areas he was familiar with. "Anyplace he might have been likely to stay or any favorite hide outs would be good places to start."

"That's going to be a problem." Morgiana said slowly. "Like I said, I didn't much care for the little Ganker when I booted him and I still didn't care much when the Transition hit. I only really know that he and his friends were hanging around the edges of Sylph and Cait Syth Territory."

"Little Friends?" Jensen asked quickly. "Don't tell me there are more!"

"It was a small guild, maybe three or four." Morgiana said. "Jack's the most memorable, but the rest were just as annoying. They kept going out and hit Squading the Newbies, really killed a lot of the fun for the New Spriggan Players until Kurotaka got together and started offering to do escort runs so that the new guys could grind without worrying. That's why I finally used the Faction Leader controls to toss them.

"Better and better." Caramella whispered.

Morgiana's face twisted up, halfway between anger and incomprehension. "I just don't get it. Jack was creepy, antisocial, mean spirited, and _weird_. But could he really just start killing like that?" She snapped her fingers. "I mean, I've read about the SAO incident, it was huge news in the forums when you guys woke up. Didn't it takes months and months before the first player kills to start cropping up?"

"It did." Kirito agreed. Really, it had started with thieves threatening to kill before it became gradually darker. Culminating in sleep PKs and the open operation of the Murderer's Guild. "But there's no way to tell how people will react to different circumstances and maybe . . ."

"Maybe what?" Morgiana leaned closer. She wanted answers just as badly as them, Kirito realized.

"There's been the news about everyone feeling strange. Undine players don't like to get too dry and Salamanders hate it when it's cold . . ." And then there was the odd power that his Sister had been exhibiting, the ability to see air currents.

"It's happening to the others too. Last night, Argo snapped into some sort of frenzy when the assassin tried to attack her in her sleep." Caramella observed. "I've seen cats get spooked and flip out, that's what this looked like."

Morgiana suddenly went stiff, eyes narrowing angrily. "Hold on a second. You're not trying to suggest that Jack being a _Spriggan_ has anything to do with this?!"

"We don't know." Kirito felt very tired as he admitted his privately held fear. "But we can't ignore it, because a lot of people are going to start thinking it once this goes public."

And it was going to go public in a big way once they could learn more about Rip Jack and any alternate appearances. Netzel was going to have the story of her short career on her hands pretty soon.

But the price of putting a face to ALfheim's first murderer and launching a manhunt would be potentially tagging every Spriggan with that same brush. People remembered firsts, Kirito knew all too well, and the Spriggans had been the mercenaries and treasure hunters of ALfheim. That reputation may not have been built entirely on fact, but plenty of Spriggans had since embraced it atleast superficially as they began to construct their new lives.

"My kids aren't murderers." Morgiana hissed dangerousy under her breath. "We'll fight, some us will even kill, but not like this!" Sinking back onto the couch, the Lady of the Spriggans spread her arms wide as she looked up at the ceiling and began to quietly count down to herself. She didn't say anything until she was done.

"If it's Jack doing this, then you're looking at a darkness and illusion specialist whose main method of delivering damage is his blade work. He's strictly high burst DPS with lots and lots of unerhaned tricks, the usual solo Ganker build. That's all I can really say for sure. We're going to need scouts and illusion masters tagging everyone now to keep an eye out for someone using Mimic."

"We're already on it." Jensen said. "The message went out last night by Moonlight Mirror. Watch Officers are to stay in groups of at least four with a high ranked illusion master or scouts. SOP is to tag anyone suspicious or who tries to run with a Searching Tracer so they can't escape." He shook his head. "Honestly, we should have thought of this sooner."

Caramella rolled her eyes. "Yeah you know, growing up with wings and magic, it must have slipped our collective minds."

"You're going to need more manpower for this." Morgiana warned. "Mimic used right can be a lot more potent than invisibility spells like Hollow Body. You might be able to see the person using Mimic, but the spell can only be dispelled by the user, and the only detection magic that will pick it up is single target or very small AOE."

Kirito had to agree that it was a totally broken spell. It had probably seemed balanced in ALO where the safe zones would prevent its abuse. But here, it was almost too dangerous for anyone to know.

"I'll ask the Kurotaka's to volunteer with the Watch for now." Morgiana decided. "That should give you a few dozen more illusion masters to help keep the streets safe."

"It'd be appreciated." Jensen rose to his feet, straightening out his deep blue trenchc oat, followed by Kirito and Caramella. "There's just one other thing."

"Oh?" Morgiana laughed weakly. "Just one?"

"You mentioned hearing that Jack was mostly hanging around Sylph and Cait Syth Territory Prior to the transition." Jensen said. "We'd be interested in hearing from anyone who was keeping tabs on him."

Morgiana bit her lip. This whole conversation had been unpleasant for her, but now she looked even less herself than usual.

"Lady Morgiana?" Jensen asked. "Anything that lets us close this case . . ."

"I know." Morgiana snapped, it was so unlike the Faction Leader that Kirito had to wonder if she hadn't been briefly shaken from her own LARPer tendencies. She looked away uncomfortably. "It's just that, the person I heard it from is Gene-kun."

"General Eugene?" Kirito asked.

"Yeah." Morgiana grimaced. "Rip Jack was one of Mort's favorite Assassins."

Morgiana hadn't really given them any time to ask questions. By the time what she had said had begun to sink in, she was pushing the three Faeries out the door as quickly as she could whilst staying polite. There really wasn't anything else left to say, Kirito thought as he followed Caramella and Jensen out the door.

They'd just hit a windfall of information that would be enough to lift even Argo's spirits. The only problem was that it had created just as many new questions and leads. Was Jack really working alone? And how were they going to find someone who could wear ten faces at will?

Kirito looked up over the rooftops of the nearby buildings, eyes naturally gravitating to a pair of dark shapes sitting off of one of the eves like two armored Gargoyles. The Stylized Hawk Logo of the Guild Kurotaka glinted in the sunlight.

He suspect those two were just the only guards he could see, there were bound to be others, further out, that were keeping their Leader under careful watch.

Luckily, Leaders like Morgiana had reliable people to help watch after them, but that still left many others exposed.

"So. Where to next?" Caramella asked.

"I think we should go find Argo and plot our next move." Kirito decided. "And after that, we need to talk with Lord Mortimer about this"

"I'll ask Vakarian to do it." Jensen suggested. "Mortimer trusted him enough to assign him to this investigation . . ." The Undine fell silent.

Caramella face palmed softly. "Beautiful."


	15. A Game Of It

Halkegenia v2.0 - Chapter 6 - Part 2

In her zeal, Louise Francois Le Blanc de La Valliere had gravely miscalculated.

She had assumed that waiting tables, a Commoner job that required no special skills or exceptional talents, would be a trivial task to be mastered by a Noblewoman.

She had been gravely mistaken.

The pace of the work alone was grueling enough. Once the evening crowds arrived there was a barely a free moment. But Louise had expected that. Then there was what she was expected to wear.

After agreeing to her employment, Scarron and Jessica had taken her aside personally to try on outfits, finally settling on a white dress, if it could even be called that, which barred her shoulders and an astonishing amount of thigh. For once Louise was thankful for being short, it was about the only reason she could move and still preserve her modesty.

And that was the other problem.

"You girl! Another!" Her third client of the evening shouted over the voices of the other patrons. The man, by now quite inebriated, raised an empty wine bottle over his head impatiently , tapping on the label in case she was too stupid to remember what he had ordered. As if she was some idiot girl brought in from the country!

Which, in all respects, was what she was supposed to be. Which was why, instead of snapping back imperiously as was her first instinct, she simply forced a tight smile and nodded.

"Oh! ~ O-of course – S-sir . . . erm I mean . . . M-master!" She wanted to wretch at having to say such a thing to a lowly untitled noble like him. Instead, she hurried back behind the counter lest she keep the customer waiting.

Not that Scarron's wine cellar was all that extensive. The shop maintained the usual watered down drink that was taken in place of water by most city dwellers, and a modest selection of more prized vintages were available to the wealthier, and better tipping, clientele.

Louise hadn't been given the opportunity to retrieve one of these more expensive bottles just yet, her tips had not gone high enough. In fact, her tips had been . . . well . . . they had been abysmal.

Her first day had been an unmitigated disaster. Dropped bottles, dropped plates, the customers she'd struck. She really, _really_, didn't want to think about the customers she'd struck. They'd deserved a lot worse than she'd been able to deliver, their roaming, with their eyes, and worse with their hands. But the inn manager had been thoroughly unamused and she had been reminded that it was not the business of a 'Charming Faerie' to deal out violence.

Her second day wasn't shaping up much better. Her skin crawled as she wore a forced smile, feeling entirely too much like a hunk of meat laid out on display. Though thankfully, she'd managed to avoid attacking anyone this time. At least, she'd managed long enough for Mister Scarr- . . . for _Mademoiselle, _Louise shuddered, to intervene on her behalf. But her service had so far failed to impress, leaving her to bus the tables of some of the stingiest clients.

Louise could only guess that this was some sort of unspoken punishment.

"Excuse me." Jessica slipped past Louise, the older girl less walked and more bustled in a way that accentuated her hips. She'd been on the floor at least as long as Louise, and yet she hardly looked short of breath and wore a strikingly bright smile as she balanced plates and bottles as if they weighed nothing at all.

It wasn't just how lousy Louise was at it, it was how _good_ the commoner girls were. It was humiliating. They made it all look so easy.

The 'Charming Faeries' lived up to their reputations, flitting from table to table to work their wiles on the men of the Capital who came to enjoy themselves for a few hours. Some stayed close to a single client for the entire night, milking a steady stream of tips, others moved between their customers, arriving with a small bow and departing with a flick of their skirts that was sure to demand a repeat visit. Some were demure, some were forward, some switched between the two depending on the customer or even depending on how much the customer had had to drink.

'I was right the first time, Kirche should have taken this job!' Louise thought as she scanned over the wine bottles until she found what she was looking for. Cutting the wax cap at the counter, Louise rushed back to the table.

Between her own frustration, and the exhaustion of an already long night, Louise didn't notice that the buckle of one of her shoes had snapped, nor did she react quickly enough as she began to stumble. Momentum carried her forward, forcing her to make one last skipping hop, a desperate attempt to right herself before starting to tip.

"W-waah . . ."

Louise was cut off as an arm caught her around the stomach, thin, and surprisingly strong. The soft laugh that accompanied her rescue told her who it was without looking up.

"You okay Louise-chan?" KoKo asked with a characteristic, fanged smile.

KoKo definitely seemed to have a better handled on things. Even down to her dress. The Shop Proprietor and his daughter had held a heated debate as they had looked the Faerie woman over the day before. Though the shop kept an extensive wardrobe for the girls who were its primary attraction, Scarron had been convinced that none were suitable to display the Cait Syth's most distinctive traits.

In the Mademoiselles own words, "Having found my model, now I am in want of a canvas!"

That was when KoKo had come forward with her own ideas. Strange Faerie ideas. More worrying was the way that Scarron had listened, eyes glinting as KoKo described what she had in mind. The matter was passed back and forth between Father and Daughter, a consensus was reached. They had a few dresses that were close, but not quite right, so they had improvised.

Long black skirt skillfully modified to let out her tail, pleated white apron with large bow, cuffed and collared blouse, and frilled cap that emphasized her ears. It was not at all that different from what the female serving staff of the academy would wear. The final touch had been a slender black collar, like something Louise's sister Cattleya would put on one of her animals, complete with a small brass bell that chimed sweetly as the Cait woman moved.

It was overall conservative dress, in fact revealing even less then what KoKo usually wore. But somehow, by revealing nothing, she had drawn the imagination, and more importantly the attention of every man in the shop.

A Faerie, a real Faerie, waiting the tables dressed as a maid! Her popularity had flourished almost at once.

Kirche had been right. The minds of men were depressingly simple.

"Y-yeah . . . Thanks." Louise mumbled, red faced. This only made her feel worse. Not only was KoKo working hard, and doing a much better job of it, she was guarding against Louise's own mistakes at the same time. It didn't seem right.

"You look a little flushed." The Cait woman said, concerned, "Are you sure you're okay? Jessica-san and I can take your customers if you need to go lay down."

"Miss KoKo!"

"Please hurry back my darling!"

"Mademoiselle, we seem to have spilled the last of our wine!"

The Cait turned back to Louise. "Looks like I've got to get back to work." She tilted her head. "Are you sure you're doing alright?"

"I'm fine. Fine!" Louise waved as she clutched the bottle a little closer. She waited for KoKo to turn back to her own customers before letting out a long, low sigh.

She watched for a moment longer as KoKo made her way through the crowds, sidestepping and spinning about to avoid the more physical guests while teasing playfully with those who touched only with their eyes and words. She laughed warmly, curtsying to a customer as she easily dropped a fresh tray of wine and bread onto the table.

The only thing more shocking than the Cait's enthusiasm was how good she was at it. Louise's mind almost rebelled as she watched the normally maternal KoKo acting more like Kirche.

"Girl!" Her own drunken customer shouted again.

Right, Louise thought, gritting her teeth. If KoKo could do this, so could she!

"Coming Monsieur." Louise called, hurrying back to the table with her best attempt at a fake smile. She just had to keep herself under control, this was part of the mission, she just had to endure it. Until de'Martou made his appearance, she had to excel.

So when her customer asked her to pore him another drink, she did, and when the customer asked her to sit in his lap, she did.

And when that same customer reached under her skirt, she drove her elbow hard into his sternum in exactly the way her mother had shown her.

What had come next had been a bit of a disaster. Yes . . . a bit.

What mother had neglected to explain was that, a grown man, stomach full after a night of food and wine, did not react well to being hit so viciously, physiologically speaking. Naturally, it had been Louise's customer, so it had fallen on her to clean up the resulting mess while the pig was unceremoniously taken to lay out in the back alley by Scarron.

By the time Louise had finished cleaning up the revolting mess, it was nearly closing time and the other girls had switched from trying to draw tips to reminding the remaining customers that they had to get back to their wives before the night was done, gently helping the cooperative to the door, helping the less cooperative a little more firmly with assistance from Mademoiselle.

Louise sank tiredly into a vacated chair, still warm from its last occupant, the other girls giving her sympathetic looks as they started to help with cleanup. Work wasn't finished until the shop was ready for the next day.

Finally, the night's tally was taken and displayed on a chalkboard behind the counter showing each girl's tips. KoKo had ended up in the lead, followed closely be Jessica.

Oddly, Louise had expected the other girls to be resentful that a newcomer had shown them all up. If a new student at the Academy had upset the balance like so, she would have expected them to be quickly ostracized by their peers. But instead, their were only words of sincere congratulations and even stranger thanks.

"That had to be half again as many customers as we've had all week." Mona said as she nodded to a smaller, redheaded girl.

"That's right. And most customers means more tips. Miss KoKo really knows how to get them in a good mood!"

"Here here!"

But Louise hadn't fealt like celebrating. This was the part she had been dreading. Of the ten girls working tonight, Louise had again been the lowest both in terms of tips and customers.

Tonight's incident had been bad, the flat, thin lipped look given to her by the Shop Manager was even worse. Scarron, it seemed, was not amused in the least by her failure.

"Well then Louise, we'll just consider this part of the learning experience." Scarron said, taking her aside. "That brings the total to twelve plates and eight bottles." The man who styled himself a Mademoiselle shook his head. "Well, I suppose we can deduct it from your tips for the time being."

And so, Louise had found herself handing over what scant few coins she had fought hard to collect that evening. A thin slip of paper was dropped into the jar beneath her name announcing the remainder of her debt. Seeing the number put up on the board in red chalk was almost enough to make her cry.

It was still occupying her later that night as she collapsed exhausted on top of her bed in the room that she and KoKo shared. The room, little more than a storage space on the second floor that had been cleared and aired out with the help of the other girls, was dusty and stuffy with only a small, glassless window to prop open for fresh air. There was barely enough room for the two narrow beds and small chest that comprised the rooms only furnishings.

Scarron had apologized again and again when they had been shown to the room. It was simple policy that the rooms were assigned by seniority, a decision that was made to avoid any resentment among the girls. He had appeared especially nervous as he explained this to KoKo as if afraid that she would decide to simply quit. Far from it, the Faerie had gently insisted that she would be perfectly happy wherever Louise was to be roomed.

And so Louise sat with her knees tucked under he chin. Hands raw from scrubbing and feet sore from standing constantly since noon. With hardly more than a groan, she tipped onto her side, arms still wrapped around her legs.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay, Louise-chan?" KoKo came to sit beside her, placing a hand lightly on her head.

"I'm terrible." Louise mumbled. "More than terrible. I didn't just not get tips, I got negative tips! I went into debt by working!" They almost needed a new word for how awful she'd done.

"Now, now, I wouldn't say that." KoKo said softly, helping Louise sit back up. "You're just . . . inexperienced. You've never done work like this."

"But commoners do it!" Louise raised her voice and then fell silent as she realized where they were. The walls were not so thick that her voice wouldn't carry. And they could never quite tell who might hear.

KoKo held a finger sternly to her own lips as a reminder.

"I mean." Louise whispered. "If commoners do it all the time. I expected it to be hard work, just not this . . ."

"Complicated?" KoKo offered.

Louise nodded. 'Complicated' that was a good word for it. Better than of the ones she could think of anyways.

KoKo simply laughed softly. "And why would you think it wouldn't be complicated? Really Louise-chan, people are people with or without magic, you know that already. Magic is just one complicated thing but that doesn't mean there aren't others." The woman strokes Louise's hair, thing fingers finding their way soothingly from scalp down to her neck. "I think living is _always _supposed to be complicated."

"R-right." Louise had known that it was that way for commoners too, but she'd never really understood it. "How do you manage to do it?"

"Do what?" KoKo tilted her head, gold eyes looking down at Louise.

"This? All of this? You seemed so natural." Louise waved a hand vaguely, she felt much too tired to explain right now. "KoKo. Did you do this kind of work . . . in your homeland?"

KoKo's expression went flat, and for a moment the Cait woman was completely still.

"Ah, never mind, it's not something I should have asked."

The Cait's blank expression transformed smoothly into a sly smile spreading across her lips. "Neh? Did I do work like this?" She chuckled. "No, not exactly, but like I said, I had a friend who worked in a maid cafe when I was in high school, so I visited places that did something like this a lot. But," she closed her eyes, "Those places usually weren't so rowdy. The girl's here are lucky to have Scarron-san."

"Mademoiselle." Louise corrected automatically.

"Right, right!" KoKo nodded her head confidently. "I guess I just have a little bit of an idea about how these places work."

"Girls acting indecently you mean." Louise rubbed at her temples. _That_ was the problem, how could she wait on these people, _and_ put up with their insufferable personalities when she was expected to act like a . . . a harlott!

"Well, I wouldn't say . . ."

"Those commoner girl's may be able to put up with whoring themselves like . . ." Louise fell silent as she felt KoKo's grip tightening around her wrist. When she looked up, Louise flinched at the look in KoKo's eyes. Not anger, no, that was something frightening, but this was painful, disappointment.

"Louise-chan, you shouldn't say such things!" The Faerie woman said without a hint of her normal lightheartedness, no, this was reprimanding.

Louise was for a moment at a loss, her answer died in her throat. "I . . ."

What was she supposed to say. Honestly, she was frightened at that moment that the next words out of her mouth would really anger KoKo. The thought paralyzed her in the same way as the thought of disappointing her mother or sisters always did.

"Scarron-san and his daughter have been very generous Louise, and they really are trying to help you." KoKo said. "You shouldn't think so unkindly of people. And especially, you shouldn't be so harsh when other people are depending on you. Isn't it important to help Agnes-san, and to help Botan-chan find her sisters?"

"I-I know." Louise stumbled, thinking quickly. Was it too late to simply apologize? Certainly KoKo couldn't be _that_ angry if she'd let her tongue slip. "But then, what is it? I'm expected to . . . to flirt with the customers. Don't you know how indecent that looks?!"

"Flirt, yes." KoKo said. "Put up with harassment, never." KoKo's expression returned to an easy smile as she patted Louise on the head. "Is that what you think those girls are doing every night? What I've been doing?"

Briefly, Louise was frozen in horror. Was this why KoKo's temper had flared. "I'm so sorry KoKo I . . ."

"Nyeh heh heh!" The Cait's laughter was soft and nasally, turning to gentle lisp as it faded leaving Louise at a loss. "It's alright Louise-chan, I just forgot how sheltered you are sometimes."

Louise gave the Cait a sour look. "If 'sheltered' is a way to say I've been given a proper upbringing then yes!" She said with only the barest hint of pride as she crossed her arms proudly before her chest. "A young Lady shouldn't act so . . . so forward with someone who is not a suitor." How could any woman, especially a commoner woman, hope to marry if there were rumors of her impropriety.

Obviously the problem was just the opposite for someone like the Zerbst who slept around in an attempt to avoid marriage.

"So those are the rules huh?" KoKo asked.

"Yes. Those are the rules." Louise agreed.

"But rules are different when you're playing a game right?"

"What?"

"Or a play. Well, I guess everyone who acts in plays and opera's right now are boys aren't they?" KoKo mused to herself.

Louise shook her head. "KoKo, you're not making any sense."

"Neh? Ah, excuse me!" KoKo sat a little straighter as she assumed an instructive pose. "What I'm saying is the reason the other girls have a much easier time is that they make a game of it, and so do the customers. Nobody is taking it seriously, Louise-chan. In fact, I think Jessica-chan would punch someone if they thought she was a prostitute."

"A game?" Louise frowned. "But what about people like . . ."

"Some people," KoKo breathed, "Don't follow the rules." Louise found herself noting at that moment that thought KoKo didn't have claws, her nails were very hard, and very, very sharp. "And that's what Scarron-san is here for. But that's also why you shouldn't go and punch the customers. If you let Scarron-san do his work, nothing gets hurt but someone's pride over something they did while they were drunk. And that usually heals back up in no time."

Louise nodded thoughtfully. If that was what she was supposed to do. But . . . a game? Did people really play games like that? A game out to be something that couldn't be mistaken for something else. At least, that was her opinion. Something occurred to her.

"Is that why you're so good at it, KoKo? Because it's a game?"

The Cait tilted her head again, giving a closed eyed, embarrassed smile as she seemed to think hard about the question. "Nnnnnnn~ Maybe?" She chuckled. "Maybe I just really like the attention. You know, I'm not really super-cute in that other world, so its sort of flattering." She struck another little, cat-like pose to emphasize her point. It caused Louise to laugh.

"Nyah! There you go! See, things aren't so bad Louise-chan." KoKo pulled her into a reassuring hug, so close that Louise could feel the faint purring deep within the other woman's chest. "Feeling a little better?"

"Yeah." Louise admitted, surprised, just the act of laughing seemed to have lifted her spirits immensely.

"So, you think you'll be ready for another round tomorrow? Don't worry, I'll give you pointers so you know what to do." KoKo leaned away, smiling. "Just bring your determination, m'kay?"

"You mean you'll help me?" Louise asked.

"Of course." KoKo said. "Come on, it'll be fun. And if any of those guys does anything that Scarron-san can't handle, I'll give'm a scratching."

Louise looked up at her seriously and then took a breath. She'd almost forgotten, but KoKo wasn't just here to find the Pixies, she was also here to help her. The least Louise could do was try to take her advice. If it was a game, she just had to want to win. That was almost too easy, a Valliere was nothing if not competitive.

"I'll give it a try." Louise decided, leaning against KoKo's offered shoulder. It was so warm and comfortable, almost like being with Cattleya.

Louise's eye cracked open again, well except for that part, she thought as she noticed the warm curling sensation wrapping up around her waist. Without a second thought, Louise reached down, and very gently brushed her hand along the length of KoKo's tail.

The effect was immediate and rather more violent than she would have ever expected. KoKo went from relaxed to suddenly surprised, tan face flushing darkly.

"N-nyaa!"


	16. Infiltration

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 6 - Part 3

After two days of surveillance, and two nights of clandestine reconnaissance by the Vespid Knight Botan and a particularly stealthy Tabitha. The detachment of musketeers hidden in the forests outside the home of Terrance de'Martou were left with an unpalatable truth.

From this distance, the manor proved stubbornly resistant to any attempts to delve its secrets. Every night, lights were seen in the house, but during the day, it remained rare to see anyone save at a distance. Certainly no one coming and going.

And though Botan was able to infiltrate parts of the building and confirm that it was indeed inhabited, the Vespid Knight had been barred from others. Size granted the Pixie access to a number of places, but it also kept others off limits. Places such as the parlor where much of the conversations had been taking place, and the cellars where it was expected they were storing some sort of special package.

There had been plenty of rooms that Botan had not yet been able to search despite her best efforts. Their simply wasn't a path that would allow her to move about un-spotted.

They had exhausted the last of their covert options. Now it was Kirche's turn.

Where covert methods failed, sometimes the overt was necessary. That was good, Kirche was nothing if not overt. Which was why she wasn't even trying to be subtle as she strolled up the dirt road that serviced the small manor house, traveling bag tossed over one shoulder. She looked quite the catch, or so she thought.

Kirche surveyed the small estate with a critical eye, and found it badly wanting.

Up close, the de'Martou manor looked even more miserable than it had at a distance. Rotting window frames, ill maintained pavings overgrown with weeds, birds nesting in the thatch roof. She would have guessed it abandoned if not for the lights they had seen for the past two nights and Botan's reports of hearing and smelling people moving about inside when she had crept in through the roof to conduct her initial exploration.

A shame really, a little . . . well, a _lot _of work and it would have been a handsome building, as it once no doubt had been. In all likeliness it had all come apart like this under the neglect of its current master.

The lack of care did not speak highly of Terrance de'Martou, nor did she expect it to. But then, that seemed to be the trend of the weak willed Nobility of Tristain. Marriage to Germania might have even done them some good. Not that it seemed at all likely now. She thought back to the rumors that had been circulating around the Royal Palace, carried by word of mouth among the maid servants.

Of course, said rumors had been quickly and ruthlessly squelched. But that only threw kindling on the fire and seemed to confirm what everyone already suspected. Kirche quirked her lips ever so slightly. That the line of succession of Albion might soon be secure for another generation, Tristain too.

Ah, but that was beside the point! She'd finally made it to the front porch, stepping up into the shade offered by the entry. The front door was no better than the rest of the manor, varnish long since faded and only now remaining thanks to the stubborn durability of its hardwood oak construction.

A badly tarnished brass knocker sat at the center of the door, shaped into the visage of a roaring lion. Somehow, Kirche suspected that de'Martou didn't really live up to the prestige of the symbol that graced his door.

She took the knocker, lifting it, and then stopped, tilting her head. Why was she doing this again?

Well, she had grown rather fond of Botan and her sisters since meeting them. It didn't hurt that the Vespid Knight had been the one to save her, the Count of Tarbes, and the children from the deranged Knight Sayuri. It was hard not to be charmed by the child-like creatures, the Little Sisters especially when they were together, and the thought of any harm coming to them was enough to motivate her to action.

And then, there was also the way that his would help Louise. Not that she would have done this _just_ for Louise. But the Valliere already had a hard enough time of things, she didn't really need a Zerbst flaunting her obvious superiority at a time like this.

The brass knocker struck the door three times, three heavy, deep, -knocks-. Kirche stood back as if expecting the door to burst open at any moment. She didn't really know what to expect. The help probably. Whoever was being payed to, badly, maintain the manor and its environs.

What she didn't expect was to be left waiting so long.

First, Kirche stood patiently, then she tapped her foot. Finally, she began to pace back and forth. She knocked again, and again she was left to wait, an almost insufferable insult in her personal opinion. Kirche was used to a lot of things, but being ignored was not one of them.

'They'd probably come faster if they knew what was waiting.' She thought irritably and not without a hint of pride. A few strategic buttons left _un_buttoned and even traveling clothes could draw the eye of every man within thirty mails.

She was just about to strike the knocker again when she finally heard the footsteps on the other side of the door and gave a small, indignant snort. Well it was about time!

The steps stopped on the far side of the door to be replaced by a distant muttering. It was only then that Kirche noted a small, glass covered peephole set into one of the Lion's eyes. She had to admit, as far as the de'Martou family had fallen, the past generations had certainly had good taste, and good sense.

A clicking issued from the door, like the turning of locks. Lots of locks. At first Kirche was curious, then she grew worried as the sound went on for entirely too long, occasionally accompanied by the jangling of chains or -clacking- of a metal slider.

The sound of metal striking metal stopped and was replaced by the sound of it creaking, the door opening on ill oiled hinges with all the grace and charm of a crypt.

Without opening so much as a hand span, the door stopped. A pair of dark brown eyes looked out. Kirche looked back.

"Oh. Ekscuse me?" Kirche began. "I appear to vee . . ."

"Wha'd ya want?!" The voice growled suspiciously.

Fair enough, Kirche thought. She was trying to lie her way into the house in order to look for evidence, evidence that would of course be incriminating to this man and his colleagues.

"Good day kind Zir." The Germanian let her accent carry far more heavily then normal. She bobbed forward at the waist, not quite a bow, but enough to flash a hint of cleavage.

The results were as expected. The man blinked rapidly before shaking his head. "Come again, Girl?"

"Vhy, I zaid good day. Or vould a how do you do be more in order? I muzt zay all of zese Tristanian customs are most confuzing!" Time to lay it on nice and thick. Grabbing her arms, Kirche wagged from side to side. "Oh, von't you pleaze help? I've been on the road for dayz now with -ardly a vriendly vace!" As acts went, it was ditzy, disgracefully composed, and paper thin. And the man was eating it all up like a babe at his mother's breast.

Deciding that she almost certainly wasn't any sort of threat, the door opened a little wider, allowing her to see the man clearly for the first time.

He was altogether average, indistinct in a way that was almost itself exceptional. Average height, but with broad shoulders, the right choice of clothes would certainly have given the impression he was taller or shorter than he in fact was. Brown hair that in the right light or with a little grease could be turned black or with the application of the proper powders could be mistaken for a dirty blonde. Brown eyes, or were they black?

Handsome, Kirche supposed, or he would have been if not for the way he looked on like a lost pup.

'It figures.' She thought. Men could be weak willed, but this sort of weakness was pathetically common among the Tristanian breed in particular. Kirche could only ascribe it to too much soft living and too many prudish women raising their sons and daughters to live like monks and nuns. Of course all that pent up desire was going to find a way out, and not by the most pleasant avenues.

"Come again, Miss?" The man asked.

"Ah, how rude of me! To not even introduce mein zelf!" Stepping back, she curtsied her skirt delicately. "I am Kirche August Fredericka von Anhalt-Zerbst and I -ave been attending at great honor at the Tristain Academy of Majiks." Proud expression turned to distress as she pouted. "Vut, vith ze Faeries now inahbitting ze countryside, mein family was most inziztant zat I make a hasty return, vut -" She covered her face with with her forearm, an action that, incidentally, did wonders for her bosom. "I vear I have become lozt in zee countryside!"

"Lozt?" The man asked and then shook his head.

"Yez, _Lozt_." She said with a hint of very real irritation. Wasn't this how everyone thought Germanian's spoke? What good was a stereotype if the one person she ever bothered to use it on had never heard of it?!

"You mean lost!" The man realized, standing a little straight.

"Yez!" Kirche had to actively fight the urge to role her eyes. How stupid could this man be?

The man looked a bit uncomfortable, shifting from side to side as the gears in his head worked to find a solution. He cringed as another voice called from deeper inside the house.

"Chadrick, who's there?"

"Ai, it's just some Noble Girl who's gotten herself lost. I'll have her on her way in just a minute."

Not good, Kirche thought quickly, she needed to get _in _to the house if she was going to look around. Fortunately, they'd planned for this too. "Ach, Nein! Certainly not zis late in ze day?!" She pointed out at the sky where the sun was beginning the long decent towards the horizon.

"Shorely you'd not make a young voman brave ze elements with all of ze vicious Faerie creatures!"

The man's mouth opened and then fell further open as she clasped her hands together and leaned just a bit further forward. She could almost see the scales working behind his eyes, weighing the nuisance she would be to house for the night versus the pleasure of her company.

Of course, Kirche hardly planned to allow things to go that far and she had more than enough experience with men that wouldn't take no for an answer to have prepared a few tricks for tonight as well, just in case. And, in case that didn't work, well, Tabitha was quite the escape artist and would be keeping watch once night fell.

"Y-yes. I suppose, I suppose that wouldn't be very proper of me, would it." The man whose name was Chadrick said quickly as he licked his lips.

"Oy, Chadrick, how much longer will you be at that blasted door?! We need you in here." Another voice, higher pitched, asked impatiently.

"Just a moment longer!"

"Not a moment longer! You're the only one who knows how to work the blasted . . ." The first voice trailed off as a second man, shorter than the one named Chadrick came into view.

Shorter, and older, with the sort of small, powerful build that must have left him fighting a constant battle with pudginess. The fact that he didn't look fat at all practically screamed to Kirche that he was some sort of soldier or bodyguard, the fact that he was so well conditioned and also a Mage, judging by the wand hanging from his belt even more so.

The man blinked owlishly and then shook his head, trembling with anger. "What the blazes is this!" He barked. "I thought you said you were getting rid of her!"

"Enough, Digby!" The younger man snapped back with sudden certainty and an admirable amount of bite. Well then, not quite as pathetic as he looked. "The young Miss has simply been on the road most of the day and lost her bearings."

"And the young Miss's predicament is hardly our business." The man named Digby countered before turning to appraise Kirche. "I'd say she can take care of herself, let her go on down the road and take refuge with some of the local peasants. Not like we're living in luxury here."

"Oh, pleaze kind Zir!" Kirche repeated, careful not to make an overt advance and alienate her new thrall. "I promiz I'll ve no trouble. Only vor ze one night and I shall go tomorrow."

Chadrick's lips thinned as he nodded severely. He gestured to Kirche. "As she's said, she'll keep out of the way. And de'Martou left us well stocked, we're hardly lacking for food and drink. Where would our propriety be if we turned her away?"

Though Kirche might have been mistaken, she almost thought that she'd caught Digby's reply. "A good few leagues higher than this place." She thought he said before he added. "And besides Chadrick _my boy_, do you forget that we are guests in your friends house. It is not our propriety to show."

Chadrick's only reply was to wave a dismissive hand. "Bah! Hardly at all. I'd say it would reflect ill on de'Martou if his _friend's_ fail to show their hospitality in his stead. And besides, it's only for the one night. The company will do us good I think."

At that point Kirche clenched a fist beneath the cover of her cloak. Even spending so much time with Louise, she still had it. She allowed Chadrick to take her small travel bag, nodding her head politely as he apologized for the poor condition of the manner.

"We're doing this as a mutual favor your see." The man explained. "Terrance's job with the Royal Tax Office keeps him far from home and we lot have fallen on hard times. The Old Boy's never been much of a fighter besides, so we get a roof over our heads for guarding this place until the Faeries can get their blasted creatures under control."

Several more faces poked out into the hall, a man and one petite looking woman who would have been pretty if her face hadn't been pinched into a frown. That just about matched with Botan's estimates made the night before. There would probably be one or two others, but no more than that. None of them seemed at all pleased to see Kirche, but the young man at her side was by all appearances oblivious to the resentment being projected at her. Either that, or he was very good at ignoring it.

Kirche allowed herself to look about as she was led towards the stairs with promises of a cot and a dry room for the night. The inside of the manner was, if anything, worse than the outside, everything covered in a fine layer of dust, water damaged walls covered in marks and ruined paint, ancient Spackle flaking from the ceiling. She'd thought the Count of Tarbes had kept a poor household, but he'd had the decency to at least maintain his largely dormant home, this was simple decay, the product of decades of neglect.

But that didn't matter now. It wasn't the first time she'd spent the night in such poor surroundings and for much more petty reasons besides. What mattered was that she was in. And that tonight, she looked up at a particularly large hole in the ceiling where she thought she had briefly glimpsed movement, she and Botan would have the run of this place.

* * *

Not long ago, Botan would have been petrified by the Dark.

When she had been a Little Sister, head full of stories woven by Hinagiku and the other Shaman's to keep her and her siblings in line, the Dark had been a frightening thing made up of all manners of strange monsters. Giant bugs, cold blooded lizards, and evil beings that just wanted to gobble up little Pixie Girls who strayed too far from the safety of the Garden.

But then she had blossomed, waking in a new form with new clarity, and she had begun to understand that there was nothing about Darkness to be frightened of, no danger that didn't also exist during the day, especially for her.

A being might have been blind in this gloom, and even a Faerie would have had some trouble, but Botan didn't need to see to find her way. She had a sense that was much superior for that.

Inhaling deeply once more, Botan determined, with renewed confidence, that she was heading in the right direction. Just following this path a little farther would deposit her where she needed to be. The slowly lightening gloom up ahead seemed to confirm her suspicions, as did the whispered voices.

A faint rustling from further ahead, a rat. The long haired beast squeaked angrily before retreating when the Vespid Knight unsheathed her sword. She'd had problems with them the nights before, but it seemed they'd finally begun to learn that she was not _food_.

At last she came to the place she had been looking for, navigating between rafters and long forgotten structural beams, squeezing through the cracks in interior walls like a particularly limber mouse. She uttered a soft curse as her skirt caught on the tip of a rusted nail and was torn.

She pushed on, she'd just have to mend it when she got back to Schwartz and the supplies she kept in the saddle that the Count had given her as a parting gift.

The voices got louder, and now, she could finally pick out one voice in particular. She didn't know why Kirche was talking so funny, she didn't sound that way when she was talking normally or when Botan heard her speaking the language she called Germanian. Maybe because the Germanian words used lots of those sorts of sounds anyways.

Dim candle light was shining up through cracks in the ceiling and a conveniently placed rafter made the perfect spot to settle in and observe without revealing herself with the glow of her wings.

Laying down on her stomach, Botan peered down through the cracks and into the beings' world. What she saw was rather strange.

Of course Botan had seen Kirche undress before. They had bathed together on several occasions in the palace baths and there was nothing at all strange about her appearance save her size and lack of wings. In fact, Botan had been a little surprised by how similar Pixies and humans were at first.

It was the room's other occupant that was odd to look at. 'A male.' She thought. For some reason the idea flustered her, probably because seeing as human and Fae females were so similar to Pixies, the idea of 'Males' seemed like an unwelcome intrusion.

She understood that humans and Faerie had genders, and what the roles of males and females were. After all, she'd helped with tending the Dagger Dog packs and taking care of the Willow Wasp hives in the forest. But she just couldn't see the appeal for herself. She didn't think any Pixie could.

"You've veen mozt kind to me, Monzieur Chadrick." Kirche said as she left her blouse and trousers hanging from a rickity looking chair in one corner, standing straight in nothing but her undergarments.

Opposite Kirche, seated atop an old mattress, the human male named Chadrick resolutely remained facing the other direction, clutching the neck of a bottle of wine in one hand, a plate of bread and fruit sitting on a tray beside him. He was likewise undressed down to trousers, displaying bare back and chest, which Botan was willing to admit, displayed admirable signs of physical conditioning. That much she could appreciate having seen it in her self and the other Knights.

'He's almost certainly a soldier.' She thought to herself.

Chadrick chuckled softly. "It was hardly anything at all Miss Zerbst. And as I've said, your company has been enjoyable enough this evening. I didn't expect another devotee of Shakes Pierre to make herself known in _this_ backwater."

"Doubt that the stars are fire, Doubt that the doth move his aides . . ." Kirche said, letting her accent recede a little to speak clearly.

"Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love." Chadrick finished with another laugh. "Really, a shame not to see his plays as they were meant. He wrote them for the Globe Theater in Londinium, they say, there really is no place else to see them."

"Zuch a shame, truly." Kirche pouted as she crawled up onto the bed, wrapping arms around the man from behind and purring. "Alzough, I _do_ zink part of ze vun is in acting zem out meinzelf."

"Is that so?"

"Yez, juzt zo!"

The male gave the comment a moments thought as he watched Kirche from the corner of his eye and then began to slowly turn over, Kirche leaning back until she was pressed into the sheets of the bed, chin tucked against her chest as she smiled up at him.

What came next . . . what came next . . . 'Nnnnn! _Gross_!'

Botan covered her eyes as the sounds floating up from the room become a good deal more animal in nature. Morbid curiosity got the better of her and she peaked out with one eye to see Kirche in the midst of pressing her lips, the entirety of her upper body really, against Chadrick, one leg bending and pushing against the bed until the male relented and switched positions with her.

The kissing went on for a while longer, both participants apparently quite occupied with the whole affair. Chadrick fumbled with the straps of Kirche's bra but never quite seemed to get his fingers to move the right way. Slowly, his efforts subsided, hands falling away until they rested limply at his side.

Kirche drew back, sitting up atop the man with a look of mild disappointment as she carefully wiped her lips. "Sorry, but if you can't even last this long, you're not really worth my time."

Climbing off the bed, Kirche carefully arranged the male's hands on top of himself and stepped gingerly back to where she had left her clothes, a low snoring starting up from deep within Chadrick's chest.

The Germanian dressed quickly but neglected her boots in favor of a pair of soft soled slippers, better for what they needed to do tonight. Finally, she looked up at the ruined ceiling, lips quirking ever so slightly.

"Hope I didn't keep you waiting." Kirche frowned. "You are there, aren't you? I'd feel a little silly if I'm talking to myself."

Botan sighed as she rolled off of the rafter and dropped through the hole in the ceiling, wings spreading to arrest her fall as she came to hover just before Kirche. She crossed her arms irritably. She really didn't want to speak with the human girl after seeing all of that icky stuff, and more importantly . . .

"What's the matter?" Kirche asked.

"You sure seemed to be enjoying yourself." Botan narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Honestly, I thought you were really going to go and mate with him."

"Really?" The Germanian looked on with amusement. "And what gave you that idea? Talking with Louise I suppose . . ."

"No." Botan shook her head. What did Louise have to do with anything? "He just smells healthy is all. I would have thought that . . ." Well, it made sense, the Dagger Dogs and other animals certainly tried to reproduce with the healthiest males.

Kirche tilted her head back towards the unconscious man as she finished removing the lipstick. Being's must have had a terrible sense of smell not to be able to tell that there was something wrong with the stuff that Kirche had been wearing on her lips.

"I do admit he turned out to be quite a bit more of a gentleman than I was expecting. You can't imagine how long it took to get him up here." She shrugged her shoulders and smirked. "Maybe there will be time to do this properly later."

Botan was too busy gagging at the thought to notice the way that Kirche smiled mischievously.

"I guess that doesn't matter right now." Botan decided quickly. "W-we should just hurry up and do this while we have the chance. The others just switched watch before I came down here and the rest are asleep in the other rooms." Six of them in total, two up on the roof keeping an eye for any intruders and one making the rounds inside. The same pattern from the last two nights. The other two were already fast asleep and with the way that Kirche had so casually sauntered off with Chadrick, the others wouldn't be expecting to see much of him until dawn. Botan nodded back to the drugged man. "How long until he wakes up?"

Kirche gave Chadrick one last look. "Oh, probably not until morning. This stuff gets more powerful the more you drink, and I made sure he was the only one drinking after the first bottle. He'll feel a little tipsy all of tomorrow, but he'll probably have made up a happy story in his mind by then about how tonight went."

"You must have a lot of experience with that stuff." Botan said under her breath.

She didn't expect the Germanian to snort so humorlessly. "Believe me, you have no idea. But it does keep the ones that turn out to be boors entertained. So, are you ready to show me the way?"

Botan took a breath and then nodded. This was risky, really the whole thing was a risk, but Kirche had been willing to take it on her behalf, acting her way in here and sneaking about, quite possibly among people who had something to do with the enslavement of her sisters, so she couldn't back down now.

Her first night hadn't uncovered much. She'd spent most of it just worming her way though the walls and finding paths to where she wanted to go, marking her routes out with some of the luminescent fungus that Hinagiku had packed for her. Frustratingly, her next night's excursion hadn't proved much more fruitful. Although she could move about and follow the denizens of the manor from the safety of the walls and ceiling, she couldn't gain access to the lower floors without exposing herself to possible detection, either skirting the floor on foot or revealing herself with the dim light of her wings that would stand out like a beacon in the darkness.

But despite that, she had found something. A door, a very particular door on the first floor. She had seen the others coming and going through that heavy iron door several times during the night, never carrying anything with them. It wasn't food or water storage, she'd found the pantry easily enough by following her nose. More importantly, the door looked well maintained, unlike anything else in this miserable place. That smacked of suspicion from the moment she saw it.

At a guess, it was the entrance to the cellar and probably where they were storing anything really valuable, just like Giant Mole Rats kept shiny trinkets in their dens. At least, it made sense to Botan. If there was anything important here, that was where it would be, and maybe, just maybe, if Terrance de'Martou smuggled contraband, that was where she'd find her sisters.

But her efforts to find some other method of entry had gotten her nowhere. There was nothing on the surface, no windows or vents, that lead beneath the house. The rest of the place might have been as drafty as a sieve, but the sub level was for all intents and purposes a fortress.

Drifting close to Kirche, the Vespid Knight settled on the Germanian's shoulder as she slipped silently out into the hall, moving lightly on the balls of her feet. The hall was like the walls and ceiling writ large, pitch black, but Botan knew the way well enough and her eyes had been given time to adjust to the gloom.

The second floor was connected to the ground level by a pair of curving stairways in the main foyer, or at least, it had once been a pair, one had rotted into ruin long ago, but they didn't dare use that route in case they ran into the guard on patrol. Instead they traveled along the length of the hall to the far end of the west wing to where the servant's stairway lay abandoned.

Kirche had tried the route earlier in the evening and determined that they wouldn't make too much noise treading the old floor boards, moving away from the windows and into the safety of the cobwebs and deeper shadows.

There was another reason to use this route. The door was locate directly adjacent to the kitchen on the first floor, so this was the fastest way to get there without being seen.

Standing carefully out of the candlelight, Botan observed as Kirche examined the door and its locking mechanism for a time. Frustratingly, it had defeated all of her effort. The door sealed flush with its frame and the locking mechanism and keyhole were much too small for her to entertain the idea of squeezing through, even if she had still been a Little Sister.

"Well?" Botan asked impatiently.

"Well." Kirche began softly, not a whisper, but a murmur that was swallowed up within inches of her lips. "I'm no Earth Mage, but this doesn't seem to have anything but basic anti tampering wards. It'd stop a dot and maybe deter a line mage, but . . ." Carefully tapping her wand and muttering a chant, Kirche stepped back as a faint, heavy -click- issued from the door.

The Pixie Knight's heart leaped at the noise, she could feel her wings rubbing together in anticipation.

Both infiltrators looked about quickly to make sure that they hadn't been spotted, and then, carefully, pushed their way though the door, Kirche shutting and locking it behind them before descending into complete pitch blackness.

Darkness, silence, stagnant air, then a soft -snap- and a light had appeared at the end of Kirche's wand. The Fire Mage kept it dim, but it was still enough to dazzle the two of them until their eyes adjusted once more.

Botan's suspicions had been proven right, they found themselves at the top of a narrow stairway that descended steeply downward, but much too far and too deeply to be a mere cellar, this seemed almost like the catacombs that Louise had told her were buried underneath the Royal Palace.

"Old construction." Kirche muttered to herself. "Maybe a castle that was here before. This was probably a dungeon or storage of some sort."

"You think?" Botan whispered.

"We have places like this in some of the wealthier estates back home." Kirche explained. "Boltholes in case a feud gets a bit too bloody. Usually they're a bit better hidden." She shook her head. "But I never expected to find something like this here."

Reaching the bottom of the stairs Kirche hissed as she stopped in her tracks.

"What?" Botan looked down to where Kirche pointed. A thin thread had been run across the foot of the stairs, and through the gloom, Botan was able to follow it to a mallet that hung before a large brass bell.

"Someone must have been thinking that if there was Mage good enough to get past that door, they'd only be looking for magic traps. Sometimes a mundane trick is worth every spell in a Magician's bag." Kirche stepped over the thread carefully, both her and Botan now on alert for any more surprises.

They were safe for the time being as they at last took the opportunity to look around.

The room was big, bigger than Botan would have expected, the high, vaulted, ceiling just a reminder of how far underground they must have been. And it was also crowded, jam packed with crates and casks, barrels that smelled faintly of wax and other, more chemical odors that she had scented in the labs of the Count of Tarbes.

"These have shipping seals on them." Kirche muttered under her breath. "Gallia, Germania, . . ." She stopped as she reached a partially opened crate and stopped, sucking in a breath.

"These are . . ."

Botan nodded, grimacing. "Dagger Dog Teeth, and that Dagger over there has the Old Runes on it, the knife of a Conen Sydhe warrior." Botan pointed to a short knife that glinted a foggy silver in the light, thinly etched markings along its blade glowing softer and brighter.

"You can read them?" Kirche asked.

Botan shook her head. "No." Botan said. "But I know of them."

The Conen Sydhe, fierce, almost feral demi-Fae of the deep forests. They, like the Dwarves and Nyriads, had fallen from both the Song of Mother Yggdrasil and the Path of their New Lords, minds regressing until they had lost all magic but their powers of flight and a few simple charms passed down by rote. A dagger like that would have been a cherished heirloom, which meant it's owner would never have parted with it while they drew breath.

"Well, I guess this proves it." Kirche muttered. "Our friend de'Martou really is smuggling trinkets of ALfheim. Then, your Sisters?"

Botan felt her fists ball up. "I don't know."

"But . . ."

"I don't . . . I don't smell them here." It stung to say it. Because, because if they weren't here, then where else could they be? 'Please, Yggdrasil-sama, just let them be here, no, let them be_safe_.'

"Let's just . . . keep looking . . ." Kirche suggested, receiving a small nod from Botan.

They tread further through the accumulated goods and de'Martou's side business soon began to unveil itself. More ALfheim goods, but also things that Botan couldn't identify. Now it was Kirche's turn to give names to what they were seeing.

"Bugbear Liver." She said as they passed a large jar filled with something red and indistinct. "Dragon's bladder . . . Earth Drake by the size of it." She let out a soft whistle. "Don't tell Louise about that. The Valliere Estates are the only ones in Tristain where they range naturally."

"He already . . . '_poached_' . . . my Sisters from their home. I don't think this de'Martou will care if he does it to another Mage's pets." Botan observed, feeling her anger beginning to rise.

It had been growing steadily harder to suppress since she'd become a Knight. Kigiku had told her it was a natural part of what she was now. She was born to fight, it nagged at her constantly, and every fiber of her being wanted the solution to be violence. She just wanted to leave this place, travel back to the Capital, and threaten this wretched Being, preferably by gouging him with her sword.

"Yeah." Kirche admitted, you're probably ri-yaah!" Kirche's reply transformed into a yelp of surprise that was quickly masked by her own hand.

Botan hissed angrily. They couldn't afford to be caught now!

Turning to see what had startled Kirche, she almost recoiled herself as she was confronted by the . . . the _thing_ that hung partly unpacked from a straw filled crate.

In the dimness it resembled a person, probably why Kirche had nearly shouted. But on closer inspection, the similarity vanished. Sure enough, it had two arms, a head, and legs. But the head was a smooth and featureless ovoid, the arms and torso equally vague and indistinct, ending in hands like mittens with only a fat, joint-less thumb, and a wide pad to replace the fingers.

"By Yggdrasil's Reach what is that thing!" Botan breathed as she approached cautiously, leading with her sword. She poked at the arm experimentally, feeling her sword meeting resistance before leaving a shallow divot when she drew it back. The consistency was like unfired clay.

"Some sort of Golem it looks like." Kirche decided, leaning around to inspect the shipping crate. "No markings. Wonder where it came from."

"A Golem? Like the ones the Earth Mages and Gnomes can make?" Botan had seen a few of course, and heard the stories of animated suits of armor and ancient golems wondering the land without a master, but never anything like this.

"Oh yes. There's all different kinds." Kirche explained. "The Academy even has a whole army of them, little ones, that don't need a mage to direct them. They're used to help with cleaning and repairs I think."

"I . . . see." Botan turned away, and then frowned.

"What now?" Kirche asked as she wormed her way out into another open space.

This area appeared to have been recently cleared. A large, roughly cut table dominated the center of the space and was surrounded by maps, stacks of books and letters. All sort of important stuff, but it didn't really interest the Vespid Knight. Letters were okay, she supposed, but her interest in learning to read, started and stopped at how it would help her fight and besides, it wasn't what had her attention at that moment.

Racks of weapons filled every available space. Sword-wands, heavy battle staffs, spell lances, rows of gleaming throwing knives and viciously tipped arrows. Botan felt her mouth going dry. It was an arsenal.

"Someone's compensating for something." Kirched decided. "Well, obviously not Chadrick, but maybe our friend de'Martou. Looks like someone's been using this as a meeting place. Our friends upstairs and maybe a few others." She gestured to one corner where several cots had been closely spaced, their thin pillows and blankets left folded at one end.

Botan shook her head as a sense of deja vu overcame her. Getting close to the cots, she thought she could smell something. But it was vague, indistinct. It nagged at her, like she'd smelled something like it before, but she couldn't quite place where. It must have been very faint, at least a couple of days old.

She told Kirche who could only hold her hands up helplessly. Humans might as well not have been able to smell, so she wasn't much help.

"You said that there were people using this space. But how? We've been watching the roads. Nothing should have been able to get in without us seeing it. Right?"

The Germanian gave one last nod. "Well, that's our problem. Walking past the table and its accumulated papers, she gave a few a passing glance before muttering something about a 'cypher'. "If this is anything like a Germanian safe room. And I'm betting it is. Then . . ." She stopped in front of another Iron door against the far wall and tapped her wand once.

Another -click- as she pushed the door open and gestured into shadow that stretched off seemingly forever. "There will be another way in and out." She finished with an unamused look. "We never saw anything, because there was never anything on the surface to see."


	17. Argument of Lords

Please R & R, I feed on your reviews and thoughts, your tasty, tasty, thoughts.

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 6 Part 4

"Oh dear." Hinagiku, Shaman of the Garden of Tarbes, whispered under her breath. "Oh dear, oh dear."

Since the day that ALfheim had been transported to this strange new land, the Pixie Shaman had seen and done many things that she would never have thought possible. She had met beings and a not-Pixie and befriended them, and helped to fight an Archeopterror even though she was no Knight. She had spoken out against the Eldest Sister of her Garden and watched that same Sister . . . wilt away . . . from a Knight back into a Little Sister.

She had traveled to the roots of Mother Yggdrasil Herself and had been left speechless as she looked up, and up at the vast trunk and branches that anchored the whole world. She had spoken with the Eldest Sister of all of the Gardens, each humbling her with their own wisdom. She had walked the streets of Arrun, the City that was revered as the 'Capital of the Skies', and she had spoken to the Faerie Lords, united for the first time in memory by a catastrophe beyond even the fabled power of the Faerie King and Queen.

In all of her recollections, Hinagiku could not think of another Pixie, even another Eldest Sister, who had done as much as she and her own Sisters. But now, for all of that, she was at a loss.

"Shiragiku, hold her down please!" Hinagiku instructed the Shaman from the Garden of the Forests of the Shores of Radgorian Lake as she let go of the struggling girl's wrists. The smaller Pixie was not very strong, even Hinagiku was able to restrain her, but she didn't want to exacerbate the girl's injuries. This was already going to be difficult enough.

"Nnnn!" Her charge trembled, the girl's face flushing a livid red from fever. This wasn't good, she wasn't sweating which meant she was getting dehydrated despite drinking and eating greedily. They needed to get her into the water and cooled down or there would be complications soon.

At least the Faeries had been cooperative. When Hinagiku had explained what was happening, they had immediately set aside a room and kept people out so that she and the other Shaman's could do their work.

The Shaman bit her lip. The care of the Little Sisters was naturally part of her responsibility as a Shaman, and one that she took very seriously. Not only did the Little Ones need watching over from day to day, but some would eventually need further guidance as their bodies and minds began to change in the days and weeks before a blossoming. That too was her responsibility as the Eldest Sister of Tarbes Garden.

The problem was that her current charge was a not a proper Sister of the Garden, and this was far from a normal blossoming. She was at a loss, as were the other Shamans.

Hinagiku had first realized something was wrong when she had heard heated voices outside of the room that she and her Sisters had been sharing within the Governor's Mansion. It was fortunate that they had excepted Lady Sakuya's offer to remain a few more days so that the Eldest Sister could convene a meeting to decide what was to be done among the Gardens after this latest turn of events. If not for that, Hinagiku and her sisters would already have been returning to Tarbes to await word on the final decision from the Faerie Lords.

She and Kigiku had been in the middle of studying the Flash Cards that had been provided to them as they worked to learn the written language of the Fae. Lady Sakuya had said that it was essential that they be able to read so that they could begin to understand the contracts and laws that they would be expected to obey without being tricked, and Hinagiku had committed herself to learning as quickly as possible.

They had sat atop the bed, bigger in area than the entire ground floor of their nest in Tarbes Garden, challenging each other to match the written word drawn on the back of the cards to the pictures drawn on the front. Once they were done with this, they would move on to even more complicated words and the simple picture books that Lady Sakuya had lent to them, building up their knowledge in layers until they could decipher full sentences and the treaty itself. It would not be an easy task.

The sounds outside had drawn the attention of all of the Shamans and Knights and even Shion and her sisters who had been given free reign to play in the flower boxes outside the window. It had not been long before Ajisai had flitted back inside, coming to settle in front of her Elder sisters to report that a Nav Pixie, one of the Tame Sisters kept by the Fae, had been badly hurt and the Fae healers didn't know what to do.

Hinagiku had responded without so much as thinking about it. Of course she would help. Caring for Little Ones was who and what she was.

Hinagiku had only seen the Tame Pixie Suisen on one other occasion in the company of one of the Faeries of the Wild, the Cait Syth named Argo. At that time, she'd met the girl with some curiosity and even trepidation. Suisen was everything that Sayuri had claimed she would be. Reserved, quiet, unsociable, and faultlessly obedient to the Faerie girl who she had bonded to and treated with the same reverence and respect that a Newborn would give her Eldest Sister.

But Sayuri had been wrong as well. There had been much more to Suisen's relationship with her caretaker than simple blind devotion. Far from the harsh task master that Hinagiku had once imagined, Argo had proven as considerate as any Elder Sister, looking out for Suisen's best interests and protecting the young girl as best she could. It had been a very reassuring experience. Hinagiku thought that as long as Suisen and the other Tame Pixies had such reliable watchers, there would be no problems with them remaining with the Faeries if that was what they desired.

Now, looking at her, Hinagiku wasn't so sure. If this was the result, then maybe it would be best if they were all taken to live in the Gardens.

"Hot, it's too hot . . ." Suisen groaned as Shiragiku helped to undress her. The signs of her impending blossoming were as clear as day, limbs stretching spasmodically, swelling joints, dry skin pulled tght across her bare chest and back. She was already considerably bigger than she had been when she'd arrived, it wouldn't be long before the old skin started to separate prior to her new wings breaching.

One of the Fae had brought a bowl of water as requested along with ice to keep it cold. Normally such extreme measures would be unnecessary, even dangerous, but the Faeries hadn't understood what they were seeing at first and Suisen's body temperature had been allowed to go through the roof as the changes accelerated almost unchecked. Thankfully, Hinagiku had seen something similar with Botan whose blossoming had likewise been jeopardized by an attack on the Garden of Tarbes.

"Are you sure she'll be alright?" Shiragiku looked uncertainly to her fellow Shaman.

"Un." Hingiku panted. "The cold will help to slow things down. Now we have to make sure her skin stays moist or it won't separate properly when she blossoms." That was another thing Hinagiku had learned from Botan. The formerly tiny Little Sister had been reborn as one of the biggest Knights in the Garden, easily taller and broader than Kigiku, and her skin had nearly split too early, before her new wings were fully formed. The pain if the old skin didn't separate properly would be excruciating.

"Nnnn . . ." Suisen tossed and turned as Hinagiku and Shiragiku carefully lowered her into the water, shivering herself to near exhaustion. "Noise . . . make it stop . . . out of my head . . . Sister . . . help . . . Nee-chan!"

"It's alright." Hinagiku shushed softly even as her heart ached. "It's alright, your Sisters are here for you. Don't worry Susien, it will all be alright."

Hinagiku wished that she could really say that and know she was telling the truth. But she couldn't. Just looking at Suisen, it was obvious this wasn't a normal blossoming. Nor should she have expected it to be. The Nav Pixie had gone almost half way through her Blossoming unattended, and injured, how she hadn't starved to death, much less burned up, was a miracle. But it left its own question. By now, the distinct physical signs of a Little Sister Blossoming into a Shaman or a Knight should have been as clear as day, instead, Hinagiku was met with only confusion.

"I can feel the wings now." Shiragiku said as she held her hands over Suisen's back. The other Shaman grimaced as she looked to Hinagiku. "They . . . don't feel right."

"What?" Hinagiku asked breathlessly, coming to check for herself.

The girl's skin crawled, rippling as muscle stretched and grew and the new wing stems began to form beneath her skin, two small, discolored bumps, like deep bruises, welled up beneath her slender white wings. The old wing stems were almost done for, twisted and twisted again. It wouldn't be much longer before they fell off.

But that wasn't Hinagiku's biggest concern right now. At first she didn't want to believe it, but Shiragiku was right. "We should be able to feel both wing pairs if she was blossoming into a Knight."

"And they'd be bigger by now if she was becoming a Shaman." Shiragiku agreed, looking over her shoulder at her own triangular wings.

This wasn't good, not good at all! 'Should we do _that_?' Hinagiku wondered. Kigiku was standing back, near the corner of the table, behind the perimeter formed by the other whispering Shamans.

The Vespid Knight gave her a small nod. Her sword was more than sharp enough, and their were candles that could be used to hold a flame so that they could sterilize the tip before hand. All they would need to do was lance the new wings now and they could spare Suisen all of this pain.

It took a lot of bravery to look Kigiku in the eye. It took even more to shake her head. They couldn't do that. Not yet, not when they didn't know what it would do. They would just have to ride this out. As frightening as it was for them, it was much much worse for their Sister.

Hinagiku continued to examine Suisen's back, despite the girl's delirious protests, hands feeling their way down the rapidly straining skin and painfully defined vertebrate to the just above the tail bone where she found another surprise, another bump swelling where their should be nothing.

'Oh Dear'.

* * *

"What the hell is this!"

The opening of the tall double doors was accompanied by a thundering echo that silenced everyone in the room as the Lady of the Sylphs entered, accompanied by four of her personal retainers and the Black Swordsman Kirito. The Captain of Mortimer's Guards was already reaching for her sword when she recognized who had just barged in and was left speechless. A mousy looking secretary and a surprised courier both stepped aside lest they be trampled in the Sylph woman's straight cut path to her objective.

Sakuya considered herself to be an even tempered woman most of the time. But this was not most of the time, and anyways, she hadn't been feeling much herself these past few weeks. In all likeliness there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for Mortimer's behavior and the actions that Kirito and Argo had uncovered. But at the moment, Sakuya wasn't feeling charitable enough to spend much time entertaining those sort of thoughts.

Prepared as ever, when Arrun had become the nerve center for the new Faerie Government, Mortimer had already had a headquarters picked out in the form of the Salamander Guild Hall and his hastily organized staff had wasted no time in settling in and arranging things to their Leader's liking. The place practically oozed Mortimer.

Stark stone walls projected all the charm and warmth of an ancient fortress, halls decorated in red banners, cases displaying rare weapons and armor, and dozens of oil paintings depicting battles and military figures from throughout Earth history. Though she would never say it out loud, Sakuya recognized more of the paintings than she would ever be comfortable to admit.

_The Lion of the North_ and _The Battle of Trafalgar, _Sakuya noted the two facing the tall, paned windows. Perhaps most telling was the painting hung directly behind Mortimer, Sakuya didn't consider herself a fan of _Jacques_ _Louis David _but seeing _that _particular painting depicting _that_ particular man astride a horse didn't do much to improve her impression of the person sitting beneath it.

Sitting behind a massive oak desk, the First Lord of Gaddan looked up from a pile of reports and frowned minutely. "Ah, Sakuya-chan, how lovely for you to visit without an appointment or invitation. No, let yourself in, I'll call for tea."

"You've got a lot of nerve for someone keeping secrets." Sakuya hissed as she strode across the room. All she could think was that Mortimer must have have been compensating for _something_ with such an ostentatious waste of space, but she wasn't going to let it intimidate her.

Frown deepening, the Salamander set down his pen. "Pardon?"

Sakuya felt her anger boiling up inside. He must have known. Morgiana had told Kirito and Kirito had told her. But knowing the Spriggan Lord, she'd probably already given Mortimer fair warning of what was coming, if his spy hadn't already.

Voice flat, Sakuya spoke two words. "Rip Jack."

She suddenly wished she hadn't as Mortimer's bloody eyes narrowed. The Salamander Lord laced his hands before himself. "That isn't something I'm going to discuss while you have half of your staff in tow."

Sakuya grimaced, so that was the way this was going to be. Looking over her shoulder, she gestured for the other Sylphs to wait outside. Mortimer did the same with his own confused subordinates until the only ones left in the room were Sakuya, Mortimer, and Kirito.

Mortimer waited for the door to by shut by the Captain of his guard and the echoes to fade down the hall before speaking again. "Do you know how long it's been since I'd given that name a moment's thought?"

Sakuya blinked. Now he decided to speak? "No. Tell me."

"Two months, or rather, eight weeks. At the time I was putting a bounty on your head after I learned about the alliance that you and Alicia were planning. He took the job and went off on his merry way to try and plot out how to kill you when you poked your head out of your Faction Territory." Mortimer said without a hint of humor or mercy. "Of course, then I was approached by your former subordinate with details about your meeting with Alicia Rue and plans changed. Since then, I haven't heard a thing from or about him. Until today that is."

"Which one told you?" Sakuya gathered her arms into the robes of her Yukata, refusing to back down from Mortimer's gaze.

The Salamander remained as emotionless as ever as he answered. "Who told me about Rip Jack? Vakarian-san of course. He recognized the man that Miss Argo described and thought to report it directly to me. Though Morgiana did come to warn me that she'd told Kirito-san, I suppose her relationship with my Brother counts for something."

"And you expect me to believe that?" Sakuya half asked and half wondered out loud. Did he really think she was this stupid? "That seems like a bit much from a man who put his own pet Cop on the investigation."

Mortimer snorted derisively, eyes glancing to Kirito. "You mean the way that you assigned your own loyal Crow and Kitten to do the same? Or did you expect me to choose a person I _did not_trust for such a sensitive matter?"

"That isn't really a fair comparison, is it?" Kirito asked. Sakuya and Mortimer both turned their attention to the Spriggan youth who had remained silent until now.

"I mean," Kirito continued absently, voicing his thoughts out loud, "It isn't suspicious that you knew the Assassin. And it isn't suspicious that Vakarian-san was chosen for the investigation." Pausing, the Spriggan seemed to realize that he was speaking out loud. "I'm sorry, it isn't my policy to doubt people," Kirito shook his head, "But Vakarian-san withheld important information from the rest of us. That alone makes him very suspicious." Kirito leveled his own eyes on the Lord of the Salamanders. "And by extension, it makes you a suspect as well Lord Mortimer."

Better and more calmly put than Sakuya would have managed given the circumstances. She was surprised again that the boy, at least she thought he was as young as he looked, could manage so well. She'd seen the same calm in Thinker and Yulier, and in the Swordswoman Asuna. Just what had SAO done to them really?

Sakuya nodded once to Mortimer. "You should speak honestly with us now, or this is going to keep looking worse. Why did Vakarian try to keep this from the investigation?"

There was silence between the two Lords, the room falling so quiet that Sakuya could make out the faint sound of Mortimer and Kirito's breathing.

"Tell me Sakuya. How many Sylphs are there?" The Salamander leaned back in his chair, blinking once. "Please answer up quickly, I know you have an exact number."

Again an obtuse question, and yet Mortimer demanded a direct answer. "Eight thousand two hundred and thirteen." She answered impatiently and with complete confidence. That had been the tally of the latest and most accurate census.

Mortimer nodded. "And there are eight thousand one hundred and seventy Salamanders. Together, we represent over a quarter of all of the Faeries in Tristain. Tell me Sakuya, what are the qualities of a Good Leader."

"Hoping for pointers now?" Sakuya spat back.

"Answer the question." Mortimer's eye twitched ever so faintly.

Sakuya hesitated as she thought. She didn't know where this was going or what game Mortimer was playing, but she would play along for now. "Responsibility for the people beneath them." She said. "And a willingness to put others before themselves." Qualities that she'd never seen in Mortimer.

"I thought you'd say something like that." He answered. "Then tell me, how would it look if it came out that I knew the man who had been terrorizing our streets and killing our people? Especially when those people are all high ranking members of the Sylphs and Cait Syth."

Was this his answer? Sakuya began to tremble. "You're trying to protect your reputation?" She shouted. Three dead and two investigators nearly killed in their sleep and still Mortimer showed not one wit of emotion.

'Say something you bastard!'

"My reputation? No." Mortimer said. "The reputation of the Salamanders is much more important." Kirito stiffened faintly at Sakuya's side, leaving the Lady of the Sylphs briefly at a loss before Mortimer continued. "I imagine, the reason that you came here to speak to me rather than hanging me in public is the same reason that Vakarian and I agreed to not immediately divulge the suspected identity of the killer before we had time to prepare for the backlash." Sakuya almost recoiled at how clinically it was spoken.

"Morgiana is in the same situation being the the Lady of the Spriggans." Mortimer nodded to Kirito. "How do you think people will feel knowing that our first murderer comes from your faction?"

Kirito only stared back rather than voicing his answer. The boy's ashen skin looked ever so slightly paler than normal.

The Salamander rose slowly from his desk, leaving his cane leaned against the side of the table. "This is a new world Sakuya. It doesn't matter who or what we were before. The only reputations we have are the ones we brought with us from ALfheim, and now even those are suspect. And I will not have the eight thousand one hundred and seventy Salamanders that I am responsible for ostracized because of a _coincidence_."

"And you've done a fine job of it, haven't you?" Sakuya asked. "Look at where we are now." She waved to the room with its vaulted ceiling and polished marble floor. To the windows that looked out on the central plaza of the huge guild hall. And beyond to the City of Arrun, the breathing city that was being threatened in its infancy by a lone murderer.

A faint widening of the eyes. That was all that Sakuya's outburst had netted her from Mortimer. And she wasn't certain if it was because of what she'd said, or how she'd said it. "How can you expect any of us to trust you?"

Mortimer tilted his head, at last showing a hint that he was taking this seriously. "It doesn't matter if you trust me or not. I do not need your _trust _Sakuya." The words carried all the force of a slap to the face. "The only thing I need is your _faith_ that our interests align. What possible reason would I have to lie?"

She could think of a dozen. 'But were any of them at all likely?' Maybe, perhaps, depending on just what sort of person Mortimer really was. They already had once lunatic loose, was it really so hard to believe she was looking at another?

No, it didn't matter. So long as Mortimer chose to act like this, she couldn't invest any trust in him. She couldn't afford to. In ALfheim, her mistakes would get her thrown from office in a _game_ at worst. Now, they could cost lives.

"I want your full cooperation and I want Vakarian-san taken off the investigation." Sakuya said suddenly. If they couldn't trust Mortimer, then they couldn't trust Mortimer's pet, not so long as he refused to cooperate.

Mortimer's taciturn continence reasserted itself. "You do know that he is a member of the city watch, we agreed in the bylaws that we cannot interfere in an ongoing investigation."

"Take him off." Sakuya repeated. "Or explain to him why he should dismiss himself. If you care so much, let Morgiana send one of her own people to replace him. The Spriggans have the greatest number of Illusion Masters and know Rip Jack better than anyone. We may not trust each other, but at least we can both trust Morgiana."

At least, Sakuya hoped they could. The fact that the Spriggan Lord had been honest counted for a lot at the moment.

"Trust isn't the matter. Rather, it's qualification." Mortimer said slowly. "Believe it or not, I've actually known Vakarian for quite along time in that other world and know for a fact that he really was a police detective. That's why he was the first person to come to mind when I heard of the murders."

"Given his poor judgment, I'd call that a condemnation rather than an endorsement." Sakuya said. "This is going to go public Mortimer, I refuse to hide it, I can't. We need to start taking active measures immediately to hunt Rip Jak down before he kills again. Your faction has a great deal of good will thanks to your part in planning the Newcastle Evacuation. You can take the hit to your name and still weather this."

Or at least, they were well liked among the more aggressive Fae who supported helping Tristain and rescuing their fellow Faeries from Albion.

Rio had already convinced his own small base of idiotic supporters and sycophants that everything that the Faerie Lords did was wrong and that they should protest it. And even among the more moderate Fae, there were concerns of the way that the more combative Salamanders were dominating a much larger proportion of the defense forces.

Sakuya shook her head. "But only if you start working with us. This is happening whether you want it to or not." Mortimer didn't say a word, she didn't expect him to. Pity, because she'd rather been hoping to see him squirm. "I've already sent word to the other Lords. You have until tonight, then we'll make the announcement. You don't need to send me your reply, just take whatever measures you think are suitable."

Turning her head. "Kirito." The Spriggan looked to her. "Unless you have any questions for Lord Mortimer that are pertinent to the investigation. I think we shouldn't waste any more of the First Lord of Gaddan's time."

Kirito nodded. "That's everything for now, I think." He looked past Sakuya. "But I might need to come back later depending on what the investigation turns up."

"My door is always open, Kirito-kun." Mortimer said with only the slightest hint of mocking intent. "And Sakuya-san is right. If that is all, this defense proposal isn't going to write itself."

That had been it, Sakuya had left without even a goodbye to her fellow Lord, doing her best to _glide_ rather than _storm_ from his office. Yes, _glide_ she thought, be graceful, be graceful like the wind. Sakuya had predicted that she'd feel like this, but not so strongly. But she'd faced worse turmoil in the past and she dealt with this the same way, pushing it down as deeply as she could and hoping that when its finally came back up it would be in one of the rare moments when nobody else was around. Then she would shout and rage and throw whatever happened to be in reach. But not now. For now, she was the serene Lady of the Sylphs.

As they returned the way they had came, the Captain of the Guard escorting them out, Sakuya didn't speak to the Spriggan at her side until they were back on the street. "I hope this was instructive, Kirito-kun." Sakuya said with as much calm as she could muster. "Did you learn anything from this?"

The Spriggan youth shrugged his shoulders faintly. Kirito possessed a poker face nearly as good as Mortimer's, a learned quality that manifested itself as a look of mild reluctance whenever he was confronted by any sort of question. The difference was that where it was infuriating in Mortimer, in Kirito, it was actually quite endearing.

"One thing I can say." Kirito said quietly. "I don't think Mortimer was lying to us."

"Oh?" Sakuya asked. "And why is that?"

Kirito crossed his arms severely. "Because, like he said, no matter what his ambitions, our interests right now align. Nobody wants a murderer running around and Mortimer doesn't gain anything by hiding things from us."

"Lady Sakuya?" A small voice asked. A Sylph girl named Nana, one of the four secretaries that had replaced Novair in his civil responsibilities, looked up anxiously. "This isn't going to start a fight between the Lords . . . is it?"

Sakuya stopped in the midst of summoning her wings and looked at the girl. Lime green hair done up in tight little braids, eyes big and emerald clear. She looked young, too young, painfully young. And not in the way of simply having a young avatar. The way she acted, the way she emoted, she actually seemed to be close to her apparent age.

"Ah I mean . . . We'll all support you no matter what!" The others nodded fervently. They all looked tired. None of them had been given much time to sleep the past half week as they struggled to pick up where Novair had left off.

Sakuya wore the mask of her serene smile as she put a slender hand on Nana's shoulder. "Of course it won't come to that. I have every confidence that Mortimer will recognize his mistake. We're all doing our best and this is just a misunderstanding."

The girl looked relieved as she summoned her own Wings and followed Sakuya in the short hop back to the Governor's mansion. All the while, Sakuya wondered if she had done the right thing by lying to her.

* * *

_Argo found herself standing in the center of white plane under a white sky bordered by a white horizon. To her left there was someone, vague, no more than shadows, to her right there was no one though she still thought that there was someone there, she could hear them, she could smell them._

_And to her front, there was . . . _

_'No, I don't want to look!'_

_But she had to. She'd committed herself to this course of action. She had to follow the truth to the bitter end. That was the hell she had made for herself._

_'I already know what's inside, I don't have to look.'_

_But she did. And she would hate herself for it, she knew._

_'Are you ready Argo-san?' The distorted voice at her side asked, a mockery of Abigail's normally cheerful tones._

_'No don't open it!'_

_'I'm opening it now!' _

_She couldn't look away, she didn't have that power, or maybe she wasn't strong enough. The only thing in this world that wasn't blurred and indistinct now lay in front of her, body stripped like all of the others, ashen skin, black hair, and red red stained throat._

_'NO THAT CAN'T HAPPEN! HE'S TOO STRONG!' She screamed so loud that it echoed inside of her own head. She knew this was a nightmare. But knowing it didn't make it any less real. _

_'Lacerations to the throat, the killer really went all out this time!' Abigail said with false cheer. 'It's kind of good though since I needed more data and Faerie decay rates. I'll take him to the bone farm once you're done.'_

_'N-no! He . . . he needs to buried!' Argo stuttered. 'His family, they need . . .'_

_'What family?' The blurred shadow of Abigail asked. 'There's no one left remember . . .'_

_'I bet he went after him to stay safe in the future.' A calmer more masculine voice added. A tall mass of dark blue shadow spoke. 'Well, we better hurry on to the other ones.'_

_'No, no!' _

_'Ah, here they are!'_

_Chestnut hair, sightless hazel eyes, hands still clutched in a death grip as if pulled from the hilt of a rapier._

_'We think she must have woken up when the first one was killed, but she didn't have time to quite reach a weapon, and . . .'_

_'No, please no, stop!'_

_'Probably decided to get rid of a watch officer while he was there.'_

_A sylph, face twisted into an expression of horror, golden hair speckled with her own blood. _

_'One more!'_

_'Must have been a completionist.' _

_And then another, small, too small, and too beautiful, so obviously her parents' child, eyes closed, blissfully unaware that she'd died._

_'That makes a whole set!'_

_Argo barely heard it, she collapsed onto the ground beating her fists helplessly until the masculine voice spoke again, questioning._

_'What are you so sad about?'_

_'I . . . I was supposed to keep them safe . . . I was supposed to keep them prepared . . . I was supposed to help them!'_

_'Oh?' Abigail asked. _

_'It doesn't look that way to me.' The male voice that she finally identified as Jensen said. 'All you've ever done is collect information. You don't have the courage to do anything with it yourself. You've just born witness to them dying. Have you really saved anyone? Or have you just shown them enough to get killed?'_

_'I . . . No . . . You're wrong!' She'd never . . . she'd never done that! She'd always been careful, she'd always been sure people knew the risks. She'd isolated herself, insulated herself so that she only had to accept the pleasure of victory while defeat was simply the clients own fault. _

_A hand rested on her shoulder, as transparent as shadow, as light as death. 'You know, it would have been faster if you'd just died.' The Shadow Jensen said in tandem with Abigail. 'So just die!'_

_Head spinning around, the last thing Argo saw was a wide Cheshire's smile beneath the brim of a black hat, and wicked blade that went -snicker-snack-_

* * *

Argo didn't jump awake from the dream, she was too tired for that, and besides, she'd known it was a nightmare the whole time. But that hadn't made it any easier to swallow. A dream that you knew was a dream was probably the worst kind, because she couldn't ignore what you were really thinking, couldn't hide from yourself. So she wasn't surprised when she woke enough to feel the faint aching that spread across her cheeks from too much time spent crying.

She'd known it was a nightmare, and she'd known she was asleep, so she didn't have to waste any time wondering where she was. A guest room of the Governor's Mansion where she had taken Suisen in hopes of finding a Pixie Shaman who could tell her what was wrong.

The small Fae-kin had taken one look as Suisen and spirited her off. As much as Argo had wanted to stay at her side, the other Pixies had refused, even threatening violence as ridiculous as that was coming from girl's that would consider a pencil to be a jousting lance.

She'd told herself that it was like taking a loved one to the hospital. Doctors didn't let family sit in the operating room during a procedure, and for good reason, so she couldn't really expect them to let her go inside. Instead, she'd tried to work, tried to get her mind back onto the investigation.

She'd gone over her notes again, her list of all the features of the Assassin that had tried to kill her in her sleep and then gone over them yet again when Kirito and Caramella had returned to tell her what they had found out.

It really was another Laughing Coffin. Argo had felt herself growing tired. She'd wanted to let her head sink to the table and just never wake up again.

There only option now was going to be to stamp this out at the root before it could get going. They needed to find Rip Jack and neutralize him by whatever means were necessary. Even terminally, if need be. Lest he inspire others who were on the fence about killing.

To do that, they would need the support of the Faerie Lords. Argo had been able to kill a little time reporting to Lady Sakuya and Alicia Rue, and then managed to stretch the diversion a bit further by feeding a recently arrived Netzel the approved story for dissemination in tomorrow's ALfheim Daily.

That was all they could do for now, and besides, she couldn't stop thinking about Suisen.

Eyes still closed, Argo hiccuped softly. It was funny, and also painful at the same time. Just a couple of month's ago, _Suisen_ had just been some randomly generated, semi-autonomous AI running in the background processes of her AMUsphere. Argo had barely given her a second thought save as a useful resource and sensing device.

Then the transition had hit and everything had changed. Argo's first thoughts after waking up had not in fact been to check on Suisen's well being. But by the end of the first day she had become curious and begun to suspect. At first, Suisen had shown no changes, remaining quiet, obedient, and dutiful as ever. Never speaking unless spoken too, else staying hidden out of the way, always watching, always observing.

The first time Suisen had shivered in the cold and crawled into the hood of her cloak for warmth had been her first hint of what had happened to the little Pixie Girl.

The first time she hadn't been able to hide the hunger pangs and Argo had realized that in forgetting to feed herself, she'd also forgotten to feed Suisen whose tiny body was much less famine adapted. She'd realized then that she was responsible for another life now. For someone who had never bothered to even keep a pet goldfish, much less a dog or a cat, it was a terrifying new level of responsibility.

Seeing the girl doze as she tried to stay up and help Argo through an all night research session. Argo had made a little bed for her out of a jewelry box and some handkerchiefs stuffed with down feathers and sewn together so that the Pixie could sleep comfortably while she continued to work by Ore Lamp.

Bit by bit, Argo had grown closer to her small partner, and also fonder and in turn Suisen had begun to emulate her mannerisms. At this rate, maybe the Pixie would even develop a proper sense of humor. She'd even gotten her to start calling her Argo instead of Master.

"Argo."

Just like that. And now she'd blown it! What did that say if she couldn't protect a Pixie?

"Argo"

Something small and gently warm touched her cheek. Argo cracked her eyes open, dry lips pressing together. She'd fallen asleep at a writing desk. What she'd pay for a proper virtual keyboard and screen! The window beside her bed was dark now, at some point she must have run out of steam and dozed off. Her eyes felt sore from crying in her sleep and her nose was crusted in dried snot. There was a mirror on the table, but she didn't need to see her reflection to know she'd be an unflattering sight.

But none of that mattered as she looked down.

"Argo, you finally woke up."

Golden Cait Syth eyes looked down and were met by a smaller red-brown gaze. Argo rubbed at her eyes trying to understand what she was looking at. It took her a few seconds to process it. That was okay. The tiny figure standing before her seemed perfectly content to wait.

"Sui . . . sen?"

"Un." The small head nodded before the girl slowly fell into a folded sitting position.

It was Suisen for sure, awake, well, and apparently quite at ease. But something wasn't quite right. She looked ever so slightly bigger, not much taller, but enough that her old yellow dress wouldn't fit any longer. That was probably why was currently wearing a handkerchief that had been folded and secured with a sewing pin and a short length of string.

And she wasn't just bigger, she looked, maybe a little older? No, definitely. Kirito had teased her once that Suisen looked like her miniature younger sibling. Well if that was the case, she'd really closed the age gap. The baby fat that had given the girl an expression like a chipmunk when she puffed up her cheeks was now all but gone, leaving her looking gaunter, more mature, a girl closer to womanhood than infancy. The same went for the rest of her, limbs, longer and slimmer, proportionally taller torso and narrower waist.

She was so busy picking out the little details that Argo didn't quite see the biggest changes until she took a step back.

It was her ears. There were still two, as there should be, and they were stil thankfully set atop her head. But now, well, Kirito and Caramella were going to have lots of new fodder for jokes.

Big, round, delicate pinkish skin showing on the inner side while soft brown hairs grew up on the outside to cover them. And if that wasn't enough, the long, hairless pink tail that trailed from beneath her makeshift dress, flopping slightly as Suisen shifted to make herself more comfortable.

Argo was left agape. She'd read about it, and listened to Yui's explanation. But to see the changes for herself . . .

She noticed one other thing, the way that Suisen held one of her arms stiffly, a splint had been made from a few slivers of sanded wood tied tight with string.

"Are you alright now, Suisen?" Argo whispered worriedly. It had been close, too close, but it was all alright now. "Should you be up like this? Your arm . . ."

"It tis okay." Suisen looked down, flexing her hand experimentally. "Hinagiku-san says that Mister Raz did a really good job straightening the brake, so it mostly healed during my blossoming." She scrunched up her face as if thinking hard. "Do you think that has something to do with my . . . meh-tab-o-lis-m being accelerated?" She carefully pronounced the unfamiliar word that she'd only ever heard when faithfully memorizing Argo's notes.

"That tis a good question, we should . . ."

Wait . . . Did Suisen just articulate a question based a basic understanding of biology? Suisen had displayed real intelligence before, but it had been closer to that of a young child, simple curiosity and questions about how long something would take and if she could have a certain type of bread for dinner, she'd never asked anything like that before!

Suisen tilted her head. "Hinagiku said I blossomed. I look different." Susien frowned in a way that she'd never done before. "I _feel_ different and . . ." She looked up at her caretaker.

"W-what tis it sa?"

"Argo, I'm hungry, and tired ba. Can we get some of Nishizumi's melon bread at the bakery before we go home chya?"

Argo felt her eyes starting to burn again.

"Argo?" Suisen asked again. "Argo chya?!" The second time coming a little bit more surprised than the first as Argo carefully pressed her small partner against her cheek, feeling the familiar warmth as Suisen hugged back.

"I . . . I . . ." She wanted to say so much. But how did she explain it? And then, it turned out she didn't have to.

"Tis okay." Suisen said softly. "Tis okay Nee-chan."


	18. Terrance de'Martou

Halkegenia Online v2.0 – Chapter 7 – Part 1

It was early evening, and the shops of the Capital had just closed for the day, the Merchants and Craftsman weary from their work and looking for a diversion before returning home to their children and their wives. To the cafes and the taverns, to the cabarets and the brothels. As the business of day came to the end, the business of the night was just beginning. This was when the Charming Faeries of the Charming Faeries Inn had their most traffic. And tonight was no exception, old clientele flocking to enjoy themselves, and new customers drawn in by the Shops new offerings and latest persuasion. Novelty proving more potent than any drink.

Rumor had spread by word of mouth at the speed of gossip. Spilling across the Capital, through the back streets and the main, spoken by both commoner and mage.

There was a Faerie working in the Capital, as serving girl, in an inn!

What was she doing in the Capital of all places?

Shunned by her own?

Looking for adventure?

Who knew!

Was she strange?

Yes.

Was she beautiful?

Of course!

Which Inn? Which shop?!

The shop floor was crowded that night, like the night before that and the night before that. Every man in the Capital wanted to see for themselves, the Faerie Woman with Cat's Ears and tail.

In their urgency, many a man had been caught by surprise when they began to notice the other changes that had been taking place over the past few days. The Manager must have been taking the advice of his latest hire. It was clear in the décor, and in the dress, and even in the way that the evening started.

Previously it had been common for the first craftsmen and merchants to arrive to a nearly empty shop, but now they found the space filled with a late afternoon crowd, just beginning to depart or switch from tea to wine as the evening rush began to come in.

The new clients were not the only thing that had changed. The girls, lovely as ever, had taken tips from the the Faerie Mademoiselle making alterations to their dress, adding flare to the normal form hugging blouses, bustling skirts, and frills. Most of the men could recognize the inspiration in the afternoon uniforms of the maid servants kept by the wealthy Nobility, but with a certain romantic flourish that those dresses most certainly lacked.

Then there had been the menu. Wine was of course still available, the weak staples that were safer to drink than the Capital's spoiled water, and all of the vintages that they had come to trust as old friends. But then there had been the strangest things.

Beer! That Germanian swill?! Why, no proper Tristanian man would ever be found drinking such garbage! Though admittedly, the taste was not so utterly detestable as some had been led to believe and it went rather well with the dark, rich breads and sausage that were being offered by the kitchen that night. And some of the other foods that were listed on a chalkboard beside the front counters as 'Today's Specials'.

And then there had been the tea. Tea! In their shop! Tea had no business in a place like this! What was needed was alcohol, proper drink with which to enjoy the girls and unwind after a hard day. But the scent _was_ quite nice, and some of the new customers, the quieter, more scholarly fellows that were leaving as the night began, seemed to enjoy that sort of thing.

The changes were met by more than a little worry among the Shops Loyal customers who wondered if the eccentric shop manager had finally lost what was left of his mind, and curiosity from the new arrivals who had been expecting only to see a Faerie. But, as the evening progressed, the tea gave way as it should to wine, and the delicate tea cups and coasters were returned behind the counter to be replaced by bottles and tankards. The girl' were as friendly as ever as they sang, flirted, and moved easily through the crowds and fun was had by all.

And through it all, moved the inn's namesake. Shrouded in her maid's attire, moving lightly as air. She was radiant, not just beautiful, but beautifully alive. It seemed true what they said, that Faeries were made of _magic_.

Plates clanked as the Faerie woman easily let the four orders slide from her arms and onto the table of her latest customers. "That's two omelets, four pork sausages, and two loafs of bread, will that be all for now Master?" She turned and gave a small bow at the waist to the young man at the far side of the table who she knew was paying for it all.

"Y-yes, ah thank you . . . Miss . . . I mean KoKo." He spluttered, facing going read, and not just from the drink. "But also, perhaps we could ah . . . uhm . . ." The bigger man at his side gave the poor fellow a slightly jab in the rubs, chuckling with the casual meanness of a mellow drunk.

"Another bottle of wine?" KoKo asked, tilting her head as she held her smile.

The man nodded, almost eagerly as she accepted the spent bottle and turned back towards the counter, humming happily to herself. Why not? She had every reason to be pleased. On the board set behind the counter, it was shown that over the past three days she was very easily leading in tips.

Not that this had caused resentment from the other girls, far from it. The inn manager was a deft hand at nipping rivalries in the bud. In fact, the others were perfectly happy to take the extra guests that she was drawing in off of her hands, tossing words of encouragement to one another along with matched open handed slaps to each others palms as they squeezed by.

Really, it had come to nobodies surprise that the Faerie Woman would be doing so well given her popularity. What was surprising was the person following her that night for tips.

"A bottle of our Tarbes wine for you Master."

The girl gave a small courtesy before her own client, a massive mage blacksmith still smelling of soot and oil as he leaned over the table, what was visible of his face behind his beard already flushed red from the previous bottle. Compared to the huge man, the pale girl, in her frilled white outfit, long hair combed into waves, looked like nothing but a porcelain doll.

"Ah, my favorite, you knew!" He chuckled, slapping his hand against his knee. "What are are you waiting for mein Petite Mademoiselle? Sit here so I can enjoy the company!"

The girl did as he asked, setting herself delicately in his lap, poring his drink, and listening with small nods of her head and soft murmurs of agreement as she was told of his day, the horridly high prices he was being gouged for on raw iron, and the Noble bastard who had come in expecting miracles while wanting to pay almost nothing.

"I tell you, the working mage has it hard these days. War coming to the country, troop levies, tax increases, trades all a mess right now while the merchants get fat depriving us. Where'm I to get iron if not from Germania? What about coal for the furnaces eh? I'm not a triangle mage by thunder! Can't fire'm all day on my own."

"Master is truly in hard straights." The girl said with sympathy. "But this is a place to be happy Master." She smiled serenely. "So be happy and enjoy what life has given you."

"Enjoy?" The man nodded. "Enjoy!" He barked, grabbing the remainder of the bottle and swallowing it in deep gulps. Half rising, he took a deep breath. "Live for today Lads, for we might wake up dead! God save the Queen!" He laughed deeply, and then, as if a candle had been blown out, crashed backed down into seat before doing a face plant into his thankfully empty dinner plate.

The other customers and servers fell silent and stared only long enough to hear his snoring before returning to their own business. It seemed this was rather more common than would be expected. Though Mademoiselle had given fair warning that Franz could get mopy when he drank to excess. And he very often drank to excess. To the point that he kept a deposit to be laid out in the backroom to sober up rather than being tossed out into the back alley.

The girl watched on, bemused, as Mademoiselle arrived, giving the man a small pat on the cheek and checking that he really had merely fallen asleep before slipping an arm beneath the burly smith's armpit and hoisting him into a carry that was an impressive display of strength. As soon as the Shop Manager and Franz were out of sight she returned to clear the table and pocket her reward. She smiled, Mademoiselle had mentioned that Franz was also a generous tipper.

"Treis bien!" Scarron cried as he clapped his hands together close to his cheeks as he returned from the back room and observed beside his daughter Jessica from behind the counter. "Our Petite Louise has really come into her own. What a difference a few days brings!"

"You can say that again." Jessica nodded in agreement.

"See how the traditions of our splendid shop have molded even this difficult child into another Charming Faerie?!" Scarron proclaimed perhaps a little too proudly, and much too loudly.

His daughter gave him the slightest narrowing of eyes. "And it doesn't have anything to do with Gimi and I giving her pointers all yesterday afternoon? Or Miss KoKo begging you to let her take Louise under her wing yesterday night so she could learn by example?"

The flamboyant master of the Inn spluttered as he searched for a suitable reply. But before anything more could be said, his daughter chuckled lightly. "Though the motivation you brought out last night might have gotten her fired up, I think."

Louise had to try hard not to let her serene smile turn too prideful as she overheard. Truthfully, Jessica was right about her motives. She'd taken KoKo's advice to heart these last two nights, and in return, the Cait Syth had done everything in her power to help her succeed. Yesterday had not been good, but it had also been far from the disasters of the two prior days, and she'd had a chance to finally see how she _should_ behave.

The other girls had hardly thought to show her before because they had all thought the steps were to be assumed. But Louise wouldn't have known any of this, she'd no idea how commoner girls had to deal with such things without the protection of their family names. No she knew, and it was almost shameful, the behavior of some of the Low Nobility. Equally, it was humbling to see how the girls protected themselves without fighting back.

There were guests and there were _'guests' _at the inn, and there was a distinction. Naturally, the 'Faeries' of the Inn were expected to serve the guests dutifully and with a smile, all part of the enjoyable act that the Inn perpetuated to draw in customers. Never were the girls to lay their hands on a _'guest'_ or a guest in anger. In fact, it was viewed as a slight failure if one of the girls couldn't handle a problem without requiring assistance, either by evading the situation or defusing the client themselves. However, when a guest became a '_guest_', either becoming too cantankerous or too 'grabby' to stay, _measures _were taken.

These measures varied from '_guest'_ to _'guest'_, if they were big, or small, if they were a happy drunk who'd simply gone a bit too far, or a mean one shirking off weakened inhibitions. The most oft used method was simple humiliation. The Capital was a civil place, and more likely than not, the misconduct wouldn't be appreciated by the other guests. All the girl need do was quietly draw attention to it.

If that didn't work, Mademoiselle might take over to personally 'serve' the _'guest'_. Louise winced as she remembered seeing it for the first time, Scarron was not a small man, nor was his frame particularly padded with fat, which meant he had little to fear from most of the clientele. But the _'guests' _had much to fear from Scarron. The tactic, Louise had learned, was not favored for the trauma it inflicted on the _'guest'_ but rather the humiliation. Even prior victims of Mademoiselles attention would join in the shouts and laughter, often driving the offender from the shop for the night, if not for the rest of the week.

Only if a _'guest'_ was truly massive or overtly aggressive were any sort of physical measures taken by Scarron, and this was more often than not with the aid of some of the more gentlemanly clients who were sure to enjoy a long evening of the girls showing them special attention for their trouble.

The beauty of this system was that even in the worst case, there was rarely a violent altercation, and even more rarely was anyone gravely wronged so as to cut down repeat visits. A _'guest'_ would be welcomed back as a guest in a week's time and things would go on rather peacefully for the most part.

Seeing this for herself and actually understanding how it worked had gone a great way to putting Louise's mind at ease. She still didn't like it, but knowing that there was consequence to the lewd behavior of her clients, she had been able to stomach it well enough the previous night, and even put on a bit of an act with KoKo's help.

Between the advice given by KoKo and the help of the other girls who had given her a crash course the previous afternoon, Louise had even been able to bring in a respectable number of tips the night before as she acclimated herself.

Perhaps more shocking had been the way the other girls had responded, cheering her success and congratulating her on not breaking any more plates. Among her own peers, the comment would have been a hidden insult, but here, the girls were sincere. They weren't competing with each other except as friends, and one girl's success was all of their success.

It gave Louise the strangest feeling to be appreciated like that. She would have felt guilty for the way she was deceiving them if not for her mission. Maybe, maybe when this was over, she could offer a reward for the Inn's help. Something to show her and the Crown's thanks.

But for now, there were customers to serve and tips to earn! She had her eyes set on the Charming Faerie's Bustier and wouldn't rest until it was her. And with it, the chance to earn back all of the money she owed in broken plates and bottles.

Jessica was right of course. From the moment Mademoiselle had brought the garment out, modeling it himself to display its magical properties to the gathered girls, Louise had decided that she would be the one to acquire it.

Some had watched politely, most, her and KoKo included, had simply struggled not to laugh at the sight of the Inn Keeper dressed in the perfectly fitted black woman's garment, flexing and posing for everyone to see. On a woman, Louise thought it would have oozed what KoKo called 'sex appeal', on a man it was simply comical. It took everything Louise had not to fall to the floor laughing. But nobody wanted to say anything, least of all anything that would hurt the managers feelings. As strange as it was, despite his absurd dress and eccentric tendencies, the girl's really did care for their manager and he most certainly cared for them in turn.

"Now my Faeries, I know you've been awaiting the tip races." Scarron began.

"Yes, Mademoiselle!" The girls all cheered as one, a glint in their eyes that Louise could only describe as a cross between ambition and unbounded greed.

" Normally, it would still be a few weeks yet." Scarron lamented. "But in celebration of Miss KoKo's great contribution to our Lovely Shop!" Scarron coughed. "I have decided we will begin early this year."

"Now then, as you all no, the establishment of our Charming Inn goes back many centuries, almost four hundred years." Scarron continued to flex and pose in a way that was causing the girls at the front of the crowd to snicker under their collectively held breaths. "This was during the reign of King Henry III, Henry the Beautiful as he was known. He was said to be a peerlessly handsome man, the very reincarnation of a Faerie."

All eyes turned to KoKo who shrugged helplessly. No, of course she wouldn't know anything about that, Louise thought. But the other girls certainly did enjoy sitting up at night and listening to KoKo talk about herself and the world she was from. As long as they kept away from the subject of her family, KoKo seemed happy to answer their questions as best they could. Although Louise thought that she trusted KoKo, she still didn't believe everything she said sometimes. She thought of it more as a failing in her self than any fault of KoKo's, she just couldn't imagine the fantastic things that KoKo had described. Not for lack of trying.

"The King was also known for his compassion and sympathy for the people and would often walk among them in disguise to learn of their troubles." The girls, as if following a scrip, all gave an impassioned sigh. "One day, while traveling in secret, the King miraculously chose to set foot in this bar. Or rather, its ancestor built all those centuries ago. At that time the store was known as the 'Eel's Bed' Inn," Scarron turned up his nose with a small sniff, "Hardly a name with much appeal." He shook his head.

"But that is beside the point. While visiting this bar, the King fell in love with one of the serving girls, the Inn Keeper's daughter." Again their were murmurs and sighs of delight. Louise rolled her eyes at the ludicrous story, the impossibility of a King ever coming here, much less falling in love with a commoner. But looking around, she wouldn't be the one to ruin it for the others. This story was special to them.

"But alas." Scarron said, raising an arm to cover his eyes dramatically. "It is not for a king to Marry a girl from a bar. And despite their love, the King chose duty over her. But he was forever regretful, and so as a memento of their time together he had this bustier created and sent to the girl. So touched by this story was the Shop owner of that time that he changed the Inn's name to reflect the King's gift to his daughter. Thus did our establishment become known as the Charming Faerie's Inn in honor the Charming Faerie's Bustier! Is that not a beautiful story mi Petites."

"A beautiful story mi Mademoiselle!" The girls all said as one.

"This bustier is the very one that the King gifted to my ancestors four hundred years ago. Not only has it been enchanted to change size and shape dependent on the wearer, but it has also been charmed with magics of attraction, a talent of King Henry himself, to draw the eye of any man."

The girls murmured their appreciation as their employer continued to pose for their examination. Scarron stretched and gave a small flick of his hips. "Nnnnn~ Tres Bien!" Pausing, the Inn Keeper relaxed, letting his hands come to rest on his hips. "Now then my Charming Faeries, most of you already know about the tip races, but for the sake of Miss Koko and our Petite Louise I shall now explain once more!"

Hand coming up, Scarron slapped the black tile of the chalkboard vigorously. "As you can see here. We have cleared the positions of each girl for the commencement of the tip race. As is our tradition, the race will carry on for three three nights. At the closing of the third night, the girl with the highest total number of collected tips will be awarded the right to where my family's treasured heirloom for one night only."

It was obvious, even to Louise that the timing of the 'Tip Race' had been adjusted to take advantage of KoKo and the novel ideas she had brought to the shop. Scarron was trying to reinvigorate the inn's reputation, and with the help of his daughter, had been making every effort to motivate the waitresses to ever greater efforts.

The girl's all around Louise looked on with that same greedy glint she had seen before. She could only imagine they were all thinking of the boost to their income that one night wearing the garment might give them. Louise almost shivered. When it came to making money, these young women were as driven as any merchant.

But, Louise shook her head and looked back to Scarron, she was driven too. This was a challenge, and Louise had never backed down in her efforts to excel, even when they blew up in her face, often quite literally. If this was to be the prize for victory, she would do everything in her power to have it. Everything!

And so, she had thrown herself into her work and there was a lot of work. Waking early to perform her part of the chores. Listening to KoKo's tips on how to charm the customers. Smiling past the pain, she ignored her sore hands and aching feet. She watched the way that Jessica, and Gimi, and the other girls handled their customers, and copied their techniques. There was nothing she would not do to win fair and square!

She'd understood it was going to be hard work, and leave her feeling miserable and beaten at the end of every night. But she'd never expected it to be this much _fun_.

The simple feeling of camaraderie with the other girls, and KoKo's constant encouragement, and the fact that she was excelling on her own merits at a task that she had chosen to undertake entirely on her own, was at once the strangest and most liberating sensation. Nobody here knew her, nobody was trying to judge her. Maybe, maybe there was a little truth to the stories of nobles masquerading as Commoners.

Cheers rose up from the crowd as she and KoKo bumped hips and spun around each other, placing index fingers together before their lips and drawing smiles in the air. The little dance was something that the Cait woman had suggested when Scarron had asked the girl's to brainstorm ideas to liven up the nights festivities. It seemed to be working as the claps and shouts for an encore rang out among the tables.

"Marry me Miss KoKo!" One of the customers, a slender nobleman, only slight inebriated called out as he stood tipsily atop his seat.

"Shut up Hansen, you're married!"

Twisting lithely, KoKo turned about and blew the man a kiss.

"Aye, if you can call it marriage!" The laughter bubbled up around him as his friends helped him back into his seat.

"Oy, Miss KoKo!" A harsh bark came from the back of the room, loud and clear enough that it briefly drew everyone's attention to a big ape of a man whose very visage made Louise want to grimace. She'd been warned about this fellow too.

Like Franz the blacksmith, Renee was a mountain of a man, but compared to the smith's girth, he was still lean, and young, and quite obviously a good deal meaner than most of the rest of the clientele. But he tipped well, very well, and kept his hands to himself well enough. It was the other ways that he found to harass that Louise found so loathsome.

Upon hearing about Renee's exploits, KoKo had likened him to a troll though Louise didn't think he was quite that big, and he certainly wouldn't turn to stone in the sun, unfortunately.

"Nyah?" KoKo turned, tilting her head mischievously as the crowd leaned back to form a path between her and the table where Renee sat, drinking back a bottle of wine as he finished with his meal.

Renee let out a satisfied exhalation before smiling meanly. "Now, now KoKo, haven't you been working hard? You must be feeling rather hungry by this late hour."

Everyone watched to see where the conversation was going, even Louise, though, eying the plate, she was shamefully certain she knew. Damn spending so much time around Kirche!"

If KoKo suspected, she showed no sign of it, merely blinking curiously. "Neh, I'm a bit peckish." She agreed. Naturally, the waitresses usually ate in shifts, and both KoKo and Louise wouldn't have a chance to do so until the night was almost over.

"Well then my Dear KoKo." Renee hefted a swollen pork sausage from his plate. "Why don't you come here and enjoy it?" A small flick of the rest sent the sausage wagging back and forth.

Curious looks were exchanged by the girls as they waited to see how the Faerie woman would respond. Behind the counter, Scarron was already getting read while Jessica had was inching towards a mop hung against the wall. Louise wrinkled her nose in disgust and a few shouts of protest among the guests were quickly stifled.

"What's the matter?" Renee goaded. "I though cat's were carnivores."

KoKo's expression remained blank for a moment before a small smile spread across her lips. Normally KoKo would step lightly, half dancing, and half jogging across the room in a fashion that would send her skirts swirling. But this time, she simply stocked forward until she was right up next to Renee. The man grinned expectantly as he offered the last of his meal.

"My, it certainly is a bit big, wouldn't you say?" KoKo observed the sausage. "I think I'd have a hard time with something that thick and long!" The Cait looked up, eying the rest of the crowd to what they thought. The tension in the room turned to expectation. No matter what happened next, they all knew it was going to be good. Louise had to try hard not to laugh too soon.

"Oh come now Mademoiselle! That is a mark of it's fine quality!" Renee laughed lasciviously.

He stopped laughing a moment later as, with a skillful swipe, KoKo batted the sausage out of his hand and into the air where it turned end over end, describing an arc that would have landed back at the center of the table if the Cait Syth's arm hadn't blurred out one more, this time leading with a brilliant, silver flash that neatly bisected the sausage. When the hunk of intestine jacketed meat struck the table, it was neatly sliced in two, lengthwise.

KoKo reached out and carefully cleaned her hunting knife on the front of Renee's shirt as the man sat frozen, before grabbing a table knife and skewering one half of the sausage, taking a small bite before replying casually. "You know, I've always found the ones that are stingier with their meat tend to be of a higher quality."

The bar broke into roars of laughter at the expense of the big man, now looking ever so slightly emasculated as he was left sitting alone, dumbstruck. Louise didn't miss the way that the shy young man that KoKo had served earlier took her aside and pushed another coin into her hand with a warm pat on the back.

"Looks like we're getting shown up again!" Gimi lamented as she bustled past Louise. "Hurry up Louise or we're going to fall behind!"

Louise was just about to follow when a voice at her back caused her to turn. "Interesting, I can't say I don't like her style." Lieutenant Agnes of the Royal Firearms Squadron noted as she pulled back the hood of her cloak, expression as severe as ever.

"Ah . . . Ag . . . I mean . . . Sister!" She corrected quickly. "What brings you here at such an hour?" Yes, what did bring her? Wouldn't she have come earlier in the day to avoid the crowds and potentially tipping off de'Martou? Wait! Terrance de'Martou! Was he here tonight?!

Agnes gave a small shake of her head as Louise began to look about frantically. "No, that isn't it. I just needed to check in with you two . . ."

"Ah, Mademoiselle!" Scarron cried as he came up to Agnes and Louise. "Wonderful that you would join us this evening! Come, sit, sing, drink, Eat! That is to live, is it not?!"

"I'm afraid I can't stay long." Agnes said quickly. "I'm merely here to check up on Louise, and to assure father that she is being treated fairly."

Scarron gave a small, indignant snort. "Are you implying, Mademoiselle, that I would treat my waitresses poorly?" Never had Louise seen Scarron closer to offense, and that was saying something given the names and insults thrown against him and his . . . unique . . . yes unique! . . . Appearance by angered _'guests'. _Usually accompanied by shouts to 'get off' or proclamations that '_that_ didn't go _there_'.

"Not at all." Agnes backpedaled, that is to say I . . .

"She merely worries for me Mademoiselle." Louise came quickly to the rescue, giving Agnes a small nod to play along. "Can't you understand such sisterly love?"

Scarron paused as if mulling this over before his expression transformed once more to one of magnanimous acceptance. "Tres bien! Yes such things are to be cherished mi Petite Louise! Now, go, go on and spend a few minutes with your sister! It is almost time for you and KoKo's break, I shall call her over as well!"

"Thank you, Mademoiselle!" Louise sang as Scarron hurried off.

Agnes watch him go with bemused expression, muttering something about 'men' and why she 'didn't' or some such before giving Louise another nod of thanks. "I don't know how you manage to deal with that man."

"He's not as bad as he looks." Louise said. Though, thinking about it, that wasn't really saying much. "I mean, he's much nicer than . . . He's not so bad once you get to . . ." Finally, she shrugged helplessly. "KoKo says the world takes all sorts." She ended lamely.

Speaking of which, the Cait Syth waved lightly as she came join them. "Ah, Agnes-chan, what's up?"

Agnes gestured silently to a table near the far corner, furthest from the rest of the guests and least likely to be overhead. Only once they were seated did the musketeer explain.

"First, let me say I'm sorry I wasn't around yesterday." Agnes said as eyed both of them warily. "Something came up that occupied my entire afternoon and night, and then I spent this morning dealing with the aftermath."

"Oh?" Louise asked out loud. What could that have been? Probably someone at the Palace getting in the way again.

"A Royal Agent was found murdered yesterday in a back alley." Agnes explained.

Louise paled. "M-murdered!" Agnes and KoKo both raised fingers to their lips to silence her. "Ah! Y-yes, of course . . . but a murder!" And an agent of the crown no less!

"Yes." Agnes confirmed. "That's why I'm here now. We only learned of his death when one his contacts reported him missing and his signet ring was found on the body. I'm checking in on everyone right now to be sure he was the only one."

"Could it have been a coincidence?" KoKo asked cautiously. "You know, maybe he got mugged or something?

"He was a trained battle mage and a member of the Royal Guards." Agnes frowned. "More importantly, I've been told that he had information that he was bringing to the palace. But now, we may never know what he meant to tell us." The musketeer sighed wearily. "That's why I need to know if you've noticed anything suspicious the last few days. For your own sake."

"Suspicious." Louise thought out loud. "I'm afraid that everything around here is suspicious." She observed apologetically.

"I see." Agnes sighed heavily. "Still, I shouldn't need to remind you to stay on alert. If one of our agents was eliminated, then chances are that Reconquista is entering a sensitive phase of their plans and felt killing him was worth the risk." Agnes looked over her shoulder as if to assure herself that she really was positioned safely in a corner. "Though, you two shouldn't be in any danger so long as your identities remain a secret."

"We might not be." Louise said. "But what about Botan and Tabitha?"

"What about Kirche?" KoKo asked.

"She's too obnoxious to die." Louise dismissed confidently.

"I received a report back from them today." Agnes answered. "Miss Zerbst was able to infiltrate de'Martou's home and ingratiate herself with the men staying there. She and Botan also discovered a large stockpile of contraband beneath the house and an escape tunnel that we believe is being used to come and go from the grounds. We've tentatively marked it as some sort of base of operations."

"Tunnels?" Louise asked. Better and better!

"Yes. Unfortunately, Miss Zerbst was not able to probe their full extent. They appear to branch off for some distance and their may be multiple entrances and exits out of sight of the main house."

"Sounds like the perfect place to stage a conspiracy out of." KoKo decided thoughtfully. "We wish we had better news. But there's been no sign of de'Martou here just yet."

"I know." Agnes said. "Official business took him away from the Capital, but he should be back any day now. Expect him soon."

Faerie and Mage had nodded as one before saying their goodbyes to Agnes and returning to their almost, but not quite, anonymous covers. The night was winding down by now, through still they were kept busy until closing hours. But nothing could prevent Louise from thinking about what they had been told. It appeared to be the same for KoKo as the two settled in for the night.

"Ah, ahh!" Louise moaned faintly as she sank her feet into the bucket of hot water that KoKo had brought up from the kitchen. She let out a soft sigh of relieve as she began to wriggle her toes. Determined as she was, she simply wasn't used to this sort of day in day out work. She hadn't the callouses or the experience.

KoKo only seemed mildly better as she flopped down, bone weary on her own bed. The cait stretched, back curving sinuously with a purr of satisfaction and a faint popping of vertebrate.

"Thanks KoKo." Louise said as she leaned back atop her bed, closing her eyes and listening to the night sounds through their open window.

"It's not a problem." The Cait Syth said with a smile. "Believe me, I know that feeling, when I was in high school, some friends and I went hiking in the woods once and I ended up getting really awful blisters because I didn't come prepared." She looked down at her own feet, wiggling her toes curiously. "Heh, I guess now I'm just made of tougher stuff . . ."

Turning over on her side, the Cait woman looked uncharacteristically sober. "Say, Louise-chan?"

"Yeah?" Louise looked over.

"Would you mind it if maybe you quit and let me handle the rest of this job."

Louise recoiled from the simple question. After all of her work, and after everything they'd done together. It was like a slap to the face. "W-what?!"

"Un." KoKo nodded, seemingly speaking to herself. "That would probably be for the best. Louise-chan?"

Louise was now fully upright, leaning over her bed, face well on its way to turning livid. "H-how d-dare you say something like that!" She tried hard not to stutter, tried even harder not to yell. "I've been doing better haven't I?"

"Better?" KoKo wondered out loud before shaking her head. "Louise-chan, I'm talking about what Agnes-san told us today. This is starting to look very dangerous. If something happens, I'd feel a lot better if I didn't have to worry about keeping you safe . . ."

"Safe!" Louise snapped, rising to her feet. "I can keep myself safe! I don't need you to . . . toooo . . ." Neglecting the tub of water, Louise nearly fell face first into the frame of KoKo's bed before the Cait Syth caught her deflty. She fell silent as KoKo held her to her chest.

"Careful, Louise!" KoKo said. "Louise?"

"KoKo." Louise pushed away, refusing to look the Cait Syth in the eyes. "It's because I can't protect myself, isn't it?" While KoKo could fight and fly, and do more with her knife than most mages could do with their magic, Louise only had her explosions, which while potent, could hardly fill in for the full magical arsenal of a properly trained mage.

KoKo shook her head softly. "Louise-chan, I'm sure that person who was killed was very capable of protecting himself too. I just worry for you is all and . . ."

"And I worry for you too!" Louise said quickly, catching herself only after the words had left her lips. Why were they so strange? It was true, wasn't it? KoKo, she really did worry for her. She really did want to see the Faerie Woman happy and to one day see her sent home.

"That's sweet of you Louise-chan." KoKo whispered. "But I'm the one who should be doing the dangerous stuff. I know it's a little different here, but where I'm from, you would still be a child and I would be the adult. If something happens, I have a lot more options to get away then you do."

"But nothing's going to happen." Louise insisted. "Agnes also said that we didn't have anything to worry about as long as we were disguised. And besides, what if something happens and I could have helped. It's not fair for you to take all the risk!"

It most certainly wasn't fair for her to act so nonchalantly with her own life, especially because, because . . . "Don't you have a son to worry about?"

KoKo went stiff and the joy vanished from her eyes. Louise realized too late that she may have overstepped a bound. No, she didn't regret it. KoKo had been acting stupidly. If they were really friends, that was even more reason to tell her. "I won't let you be the only one in danger." Louise said firmly. "But I'll also be extra careful."

"Extra careful?" KoKo looked contemplative. "If one of us gets caught, there's no reason that it would reveal the other, right?"

Louise frowned. "KoKo, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying." KoKo said. "That if we're going to keep doing this, if something happens that puts me in danger, I think you should try to pretend you don't have anything to do with me and get away. Do you understand, Louise-chan?"

Louise was stricken dumb. If something happened, then KoKo wanted her to abandon her! "A-absolutely not! I . . ."

"This isn't up for debate, Louise." KoKo's voice was quick and decisive, and very nearly as forceful as her mothers. It obliterated the tirade that Louise had planned to unleash in barely a heartbeat. "And if you try to argue, Gaius-san told me what your father said to him. I'll go and tell them that you're putting yourself in danger."

"Y-you wouldn't dare!" Louise felt ever so slightly betrayed. But at the same time, she knew KoKo was just trying to protect her.

"I would so dare!" KoKo promised, locking eyes with Louise. It was like a kitten confronting a full grown lioness, and there was only one way it was going to end. But Louise would still get at least one bite in.

"Then . . . the same goes for me if I'm the one in danger!" Louise decided. Though she didn't know how she could back it up, she just refused to surrender without some sort of concession. She hadn't really expected KoKo to relax so suddenly, or for her to agree so easily, with only a tad of reluctance as she gave her word.

More even than the news that Agnes had brought them, that bothered Louise, and it was still gnawing at her the next evening as they began to set up from the evening crowd.

Today was just as busy as yesterday, with even more people coming in for the afternoon 'cafe' experience prior to the evening festivities. The tips weren't quite at high at this hour, but the clients were generally more pleasant than those that would arrive later in the day, and the other girls were eager to take the opportunity to play catch up while KoKo was busy with Scarron and Louise manned the front desk, greeting customers and directing them to their tables.

Things had remained uneventful enough save for one strange moment. A suspiciously foppish older gentleman had come in just prior to evening, tinted glasses hiding a face that was still handsome, and broad brimmed hat worn over graying blonde hair. He shirked off his coat, placing it on the rack beside the door.

"Ah, it's open early today!" He noted eagerly without sparring Louise a second glance.

"Yes Monsieur." Louise said automatically, feeling rather bored all the while.

"And is . . . ah . . . Miss Jessica serving this afternoon."

"Later tonight." Louise confirmed, Scarron's daughter was being groomed to take over for her father, but she was as eager as the other girls to take part in the competition. Maybe even over eager.

"Excellent!" The man said. "Ah, such a lovely young rose and . . ." He finally looked at Louise again, blinking a few times before nodding to himself and whispering something under his breath.

Expression never changing, he turned easily back around, grabbing his cloak and hat and returning out the door, having never broken his stride from the moment he entered to the moment he left. Louise had entertained herself by wondering about this peculiar happening, all the while noting that he had seemed quite familiar . . .

Well, it hardly mattered that much. Again the afternoon crowd had surrendered to the evening, and wine had given way to beer, until at last the night was in full swing. This time, Louise and KoKo were on even footing on the board, trailed closely by Jessica who was really stepping up her game to beat them that night, wearing an dress that had been cut so low that Louise was convinced it had to have been enchanted to prevent something from _slipping_ and compromising the whole outfit.

KoKo was busy on the far side of the room, and Scarron was busying himself with a particularly unpleasant _'guest'_ who had gotten to grabby with gimi as the door chimed, announcing the arrival of another customer. Being the closest, it was Louise's responsibility to answer.

"Welcome to the Charming Faerie's Inn!" Louise declared, smiling just the way she had practiced before the beautiful facade nearly cracked like cheap porcelain.

Heavyset, but not in a way that would ever be mistaken for muscle. His jowls jiggled as he walked, the thin wisps of a mustache, expertly maintained but too insubstantial to amount to much, darkened his lip beneath a wide, squashed nose. He looked young, younger than he probably was, all that fat didn't leave much room for wrinkles. Or maybe it was whatever he had doused himself in that had such a preservative effect, a cloying, heavy cologne that Louise was certainly would have been able to mask a pig farm.

In his company, to men stood side by side, tall, lean, and very obviously trained in the use of the whips and swords that hung at their belts. All three carried badges that marked their authority as officers of the Tax Office.

Between the guards and their master, the slender, big nosed mage that stood at the back of the group went nearly unnoticed, black hair greased and combed over in a failed attempt to disguise a bald patch that would otherwise have barely warranted notice.

"Ah, a new girl! See, I told you tonight would be an excellent time to come." The porcine man chuckled. "Now come on, wine and then business! Girl! Go and fetch as a table and some of your Manager's best, not that swill, the stuff he keeps underneath the floorboards in the kitchen." The man squinted suspiciously. "Well, what are you waiting for! Don't you know who I am?"

"I . . ." Louise shook her head, which thankfully, proved to be the right choice.

Preening loudly, the man puffed out his chest. By now, Scarron had noticed what was going on and was waving to get Louise's attention, raising his hand in the gesture that indicated an important customer. In particular, one of the few rare guests that couldn't be treated as a _'guest', _and Louise knew exactly why because, after all, she knew exactly who he was.

"_I _am her Majesty's Royal tax collector, Terrance de'Martou, and if you don't want to find yourself out on the streets, you best remember it!"


	19. Interviews

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 7 Part 2

Frowning, Alicia Rue, First Lady of Freelia eyed her oldest remaining friend unawares, a hint of worry flashing in her eyes. "You know, at this rate, you're going to end up with wrinkles way too young."

"What was that?" Sakuya asked as she set down her pen and closed the last notebook with a blessed sense of accomplishment. The battle with paperwork was at last won for the day. And just in time too, she noted the sun beginning to sink on the horizon through her office window. The bureaucrats had wasted no time in making Halkegenia just like home. In the annoying ways as well.

"I was saying you need a new hobby." Alicia repeated, stretching her arms behind her back. "Maybe flower arranging," She grinned mischievously, "Or tea ceremonies."

Sakuya scowled as she stood up from her desk, dropping the papers into the outgoing pile before heading for the door, Alicia in tow, they would be late if they didn't hurry. "I don't have_time_for a hobby." She said tiredly, eyes narrowing at Alicia Rue. "And you don't either! Miss Likes to be a Cat!" How she got her work done when she fell asleep in the middle of the afternoon was still a mystery to Sakuya. Probably the same way she'd done it in that other world.

The Cait Girl raised her hands helplessly. "What can I say, I'm good at delegating!"

The Lady of the Sylphs didn't try to contest the matter. For one thing, there was very likely some truth to it. It was never quite clear why, but when Alicia was around, things just seemed to get done, often faster and more efficiently than Sakuya would ever have imagined possible. Nobody was quite sure why, and when asked about it, Alicia would only suggest that a game bug must have let her keep her Super Secretary special ability after changing classes to Leader. It was almost comforting that Alicia could remain to flippant after everything.

A pair of guards fell in quickly at their backs as they departed Sakuya's office and headed for the main lobby. Sakuya felt faintly uncomfortable as she eyed one of the Sylphs at her back. She had nothing against the man personally, he simply had the misfortune of filling a pair of shoes that she would have rather left empty. After Novair's death, his murder, Liliana should have taken over directing her guards as the senior Sylph watch Commander. But with Liliana murdered as wel, Sakuya bit her lip, the job had gone to the severe man at her side now.

Before yesterday, Sakuya had never met Ephi, a competent swordsman and even more competent mage who had proven himself while serving in the Mob patrols. All that she'd known was that he had been one of Liliana's Lieutenants and the first to volunteer for the job after learning that his superior had been killed. That really should have been enough, Sakuya thought, anyone brave enough to volunteer after what had happened to Liliana and Novair was deserving of her respect. If only he had the slightest hint of tact, clinging to her side, and watching everything she did.

Ephi noticed her watching him and gave a small nod. "Do you need something, Sakuya-sama?" So formal, she thought, none of the warmth that had grown up between her and Novair. It reminded her of just how isolated she was with only Alicia to rely on.

"No, it's nothing." Sakuya said, brushing back a loose strand of hair.

The elevator was being held for them when they arrived, a cluster of guards waiting patiently and more standing guard at the main sky entrance to Arrun Tower, predominantly Sylphs, Cait Syth, and Salamanders, but also a few of the illusion masters promised by Morgiana.

The Spriggans stood back, clinging to corners and shadows, from time to time one of them would complete a whispered chant as they renewed the Detect spells that they had set over the entire area.

Sakuya gave a nod of approval at the first sight of the white and black logo of the Guild Kurotaka. Morgiana had brought out her elites, it was good to see that someone was acting sensibly. Which inevitably brought her back to the issue she'd have rather not had to think about.

A day ago, as she had promised Mortimer, Sakuya had gone forward with divulging the identity of the first Faerie murderer. As expected, the news had hit the message boards with all the subtlety of a hurricane, spreading across Arrun in less than an hour, by word of mouth, or by the hastily printed broadsheets that the Daily ALfheim staff had been able to throw together. The same scene had repeated in the other cities as word was relayed by Moonlight Mirror.

The effect had been immediate and decisive. By mid morning, Arrun tower had been flooded with Faeries demanding to see their Leaders and know what was being done now that the murderer was known to the authorities. Thankfully, by then Sakuya had her answer.

In an unprecedented step, it had been decided by unanimous vote of the Faerie Lords and Representatives to declare a manhunt with the intent of bringing the Spriggan Assassin Rip Jack to justice. The City Watch was being bolstered with additional troops from the defense forces and a reward had been posted for any information that led to Jack's capture.

In exchange for an interview with her and Alicia, a young Cait Syth reporter named Netzel had put them in contact with a Tristanian printer who had been working with the Daily ALfheim staff to produce their new broadsheet editions. Alicia had forwarded the witness drawings of Rip Jack showing sketches of his Spriggan form as well as Morgiana's best impressions of his Sylph and Cait Syth disguises. These drawings had been replicated in wood cuts and mass printed for dissemination in all of the Faerie cities. It would be as simple as Jack changing faces again to render them a useless measure, but every little bit helped, and there was always the faint hope he would get sloppy again.

And of course, there were the Spriggan illusion masters coming out in force at Morgiana's request to sweep the streets for any hint of a person using the faction disguise spell. Their visibility and ongoing efforts did a lot to prevent them from being painted with the same brush as the murderer they were hunting. Only a few people had dared to suggest out loud that the Spriggans as a whole were untrustworthy, and most of those had been quickly silenced, often by their own friends and coworkers.

But not everything important was said out loud, Sakuya thought, there were probably far more people who harbored suspicions than would ever willingly voice them. Too many people who let their impressions from the game of ALfheim govern how they perceived people who were now their neighbors. And each silent doubter was another disaster waiting to happen. Now that she'd had time to cool her head, Sakuya was glad that Alicia had talked her out of the more rash announcement she'd originally planned.

"Something on your mind?" Alicia asked as the elevator doors closed, isolating the two Faerie Lords for the brief trip down to the main lobby.

"I'm just glad we didn't mention Mortimer." Sakuya admitted quietly. No, they had enough problems dealing with the mistrustful looks cast at the Spriggans right now, they didn't need to add the Salamanders to the pile. With their comparatively small population, they simply couldn't afford to offer a shattered front either within or without.

Alicia closed her eyes and smiled. "Neh? Not like I did that much. Besides, you wouldn't have done it anyway."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Sakuya said, returning a little of Alicia's smile. "But this is one time I think you're wrong."

Alicia's smile faded to be replaced by an expression of bemusement. "What is it about him that gets under your skin?"

"Its . . ." Sakuya paused as she tried to think of a way to explain it.

Really, for something she couldn't put plainly, she felt entirely too strongly about it. What was her real problem with Mortimer?

Mostly it was that he was the sort of person who saw things differently than other people, and one of the ways he saw things differently was that he saw other people as things. She'd watched him talking strategy with General Gramont and explaining military concepts to a room full of Noblemen fascinated with the ideas he was suggesting, for ships, for foot soldiers, for artillery, and mage cavalry. The Success of Dunkirk had bough him and and his allies in the Tristanian Court a tremendous amount of sway.

And yet, he still treated it like a game. Soldiers were tokens and the world was a playing board. The day before, the need for trust, his blasé dismissal. He was proving to be exactly the sort of person she'd feared he would be. Self absorbed and self interested and entirely too much like Sigurd for her liking.

A week ago, two days ago, she could have chastised herself for thinking like that, convinced herself that she was just letting her own irrational fears cloud her judgment. Now, she wasn't so sure. Two days ago, she hadn't known about Rip Jack. And two days ago, she hadn't known Mortimer was trying to keep secrets.

"I'm just not so sure he hasn't forgotten that he's wearing a mask." Sakuya decided. Or at least she hoped that's what it was. She hoped there was a decent human being someplace inside of the cold outer persona. Or maybe she didn't. If Mortimer really were a cold blooded lizard, it would make hating him so much easier. "He's still playing general."

Sakuya had expected that Alicia might say any number of things back, she didn't expect the small snort, and then a slightly louder snicker as the petite Queen of the Cat Girls tried to stifle a laugh.

"What is it?" Sakuya asked shortly.

Waving a hand as she wiped a tear from her eye. "Sorry, sorry, it's just, well, pot, meet kettle."

The reply got a rise out of the Lady of the Sylphs, Sakuya was woman enough to admit it, the nerve of Alicia implying that there was anything alike between her and Mortimer!

"And just _what_ does that mean?" She asked, voice as sharp as the sword she still habitually carried at her side.

Alicia was back to serious mode again as she looked up at the taller Sylph. "It means that maybe Mortimer's not the only one whose forgotten that they're wearing a mask." She said softly and without a hint of humor.

"Wait." The Sylph's brows rose. "You think I'm LARPing?" Sakuya was unable to keep the disbelief from her voice. Certainly she had treated Mortimer as her enemy in ALfheim, that was the entire point of the game, but think that it would in any way extend to a real world . . .

A small hand encompassed Sakuya's wrist, squeezing gently. "Look, if you ever need to just talk . . ." Alicia shook her head. "No, even if you don't feel like talking, we should have a sit down and sort this all out, okay?"

Face a little more composed, back a little straighter, Sakuya extracted her hand from Alicia's grip and gave her a small look of displeasure. "That would imply I had time for myself." Something that had become a bit of a unicorn, the figurative kind, over the past few weeks.

Alicia's smile returned, shaking her head casually as she leaned against the curved wall of the elevator. "You're a Faerie Lord, you've even got the fancy crest thingy!" Alicia pointed to the sylph crest hung from a golden chain wreathed atop her head. "You can make time!"

The two women held their stares, Green eyes and Gold battling in a test of wills. This time, it was Sakuya's turn to try and suppress a snicker. Only when she laughed openly did Alicia really relax and wait for her to get control of herself. "Alright. Alright, I get it!" Sakuya wiped at her own eyes. "If it's that important, maybe we can have a few drinks, but not before next day of Void." She was sure she could make room in her schedule for that, hopefully. "We'll talk things over then."

It seemed like Alicia had more to say but the Cait Girl held her tongue, simply nodding instead. "That works for me."

The needle set above the elevator door came to a stop pointing squarely at the brass letter G announcing their arrival at the ground floor, a small bell chimed mechanically as the elevator car secured itself.

"And Arisa . . . Thank you." Sakuya said.

The Lord of Freelia's smile widened. "It's nothing, Sakura-chan."

And then the elevator doors were opening, depositing the two women into cordon of guards that separated the elevator banks from the a gathering crowd . It was almost time to begin, and Sakuya had no intention of missing this, especially as one of the participants.

It occurred to the historian in Sakuya that they were living in a time of many firsts. First contact with a whole new world, the formation of their own government, the first written laws and treaties negotiated on their behalf, and of course, their first war. Today was the day of another first in the nascent history of the Faeries. Tonight was to be the first official interviews and the first opportunity for the Faerie Lords to truly stand before the people that they lead.

Any populace, be they born in the early modern age or the information age, was forever hungry for information, and if they didn't get it from a credible source, they would happily devour their own tails. The result was inevitably rumors, lies, and gossip that left people ill informed and ill prepared. The message boards helped a little, and the Daily ALfheim was shaping up to be an important resource once they had a broad enough distribution to actually publish on a daily basis. In the mean time, the Leaders needed a way to present themselves to the people and also defend against the accusations of the opposition, such as it were.

Sakuya wrinkled her nose as she saw an unwelcome face on the other side of the cordon, surrounded by a crowd of sycophants and assorted hangers on as well as a particular Cait Syth hungry for a few quotes for tomorrow's paper. As Sylph's went, he was as handsome as Sakuya was beautiful, tall, high cheekbones, hawkish eyes, green hair almost as dark as her own pulled back to expose a widow's peak. Sakuya wondered just how much he'd spent on that avatar or if he had just gotten absurdly lucky. No, she thought, probably not, if he were lucky, Rio wouldn't be in this world at all.

Once, what felt like a lifetime ago but really couldn't have been more than a year in the past, Rio had been a contender for Lord of the Sylphs. He had the voice and speaking talent to back up his looks and knew how to carry himself well. If only he wasn't an utter troll and completely devoid of common sense.

Though that might have been a little unfair, Sakuya had had help, of a sort, in the form of Sigurd who had also been running for the position of Lord at the time. The two men had ended up locked in a battle of wills that had allowed Sakuya to slip past and win handily. Her performance as Lady of the Sylphs had ensured her reelection every voting period since.

She suspected that Rio rather resented her for that. It might have explained his latest idiocy. Though maybe she was giving herself too much credit for his bad behavior. In any case, she hadn't spared Rio a thought until a little less than a month ago when he had started to make waves. Small ones at first, finding every leak and problem and complaining about it until Sakuya or one of the other Lords managed to get it plugged.

The technique was crude, but effective in the short term. Rio had begun to develop a small but very devoted following among the disenfranchised players, the Gankers, Trolls, and generally less wholesome crowd who didn't really belong anywhere else. They styled themselves 'the Friends of the ABC' with Rio as their face to the rest of the Fae. He almost certainly couldn't be providing the brains.

The success of operation Dunkirk had almost shut him up, for about a week. But now he was at it again, this time using the murders as ammunition for his cause. The dialogues exchanged every day with Regin had been his latest bid to gain relevance.

Regin was taken relatively seriously by the population and tended to voice their concerns with a degree of eloquence and even flare. By debating with Regin, Rio had hoped to latch on to the Puca's popularity and become perceived as the officially endorsed opposition. It was a surprisingly clever strategy for someone like Rio if only it hadn't been backfiring so horribly.

Put simply, Regin had been taking the Sylph apart in every one of their exchanges, stripping Rio of his modest gains until only the diehard followers remained. Today most likely would be the final death blow. Sakuya found she rather enjoyed the prospect. Now if only she wasn't on the firing line as well.

As much as she hated to admit it, Rio did make one very good point. Over two thirds of the Fae were currently ruled by Leaders who had never been elected. They'd been selected by their fellow players to play leader in a _game_, they had _not _been chosen by their fellow Fae to be their Lords and Lead them into a war.

Where Rio had been most effective was hammering home this fact. Dunkirk had been a tremendous military success that had saved the lives of hundreds of their trapped fellow players, it had also embroiled them in a war that could very possible cost thousands of them their lives and committed the Fae to the defense of Tristain without any hope for repreave if things went badly for the Kingdom.

Sakuya knew why this was necessary and had resigned herself to the fact. She had to, that was her job as a Leader. But there were many people who didn't share her belief, either out of ignorance or shear pig headed belief that they could stick their heads in the sand and not get involved despite every shred of evidence to the contrary.

This debate would be as much a Trial in the eyes of some as it was a discussion in the eyes of others and it drained much of the enjoyment that Sakuya might have otherwise felt as her guards parted the crowds so that she could take to the stage. The others were already waiting.

Not all of the Lords were represented here tonight. Seeing to the new security measures had taken Zia and Zolf back to their home cities and while the Gnomes had selected an official mayor to rule to Tau Tona, they had yet to decide on who would represent them in Arrun and by extension in Tristain. Lastly, Morgiana had bowed out to personally direct the Spriggan guards scattered across Arrun. The last Sakuya had seen of her, the Lady of the Spriggans had looked every bit the stocking huntress, hungry to disembowel something, _anything_ with that ludicrous spear of hers.

Here was to hoping that _Morgiana_ wouldn't be the cause of their next incident.

Alicia slipped past, stepping lightly to take her seat in one of the chairs that had been carried up onto the stage. Choosing to make the sacrifice of sitting between Rio and Rute. The Lord of the Leprechauns sat heavily, grumbling under his breath in a fashion that caused his mustache to twitch as if it were alive. Beside Rute, the Undine Thinker was seated casually in his semi martial uniform flanked by Mortimer. Sakuya paused only long enough to meet Mortimer's eyes for a heartbeat, her displeasure rising as she realized the only remaining unoccupied seat was between him and the last attendant, a scholarly looking Puca.

There wasn't much that could be said for Regin prior to ALfheim's actualization in Tristain. There wasn't much to say, because Regin had the grave misfortune of being a complete Newbie to ALfheim when the transition had hit, claiming to have logged less than twenty hours total. Reborn into the Puca Race with little in the way of useful skills, he'd gotten by at first like everyone else by accepting the rationed handouts and the charity of his fellow Players turned Faeries. That was, until he began to try his hand at political commentary and his reputation had taken off.

Sakuya had read his work devoutly, and though he hardly had any new insights, what he said was consistently reasonable with an eye towards addressing the fears of the populace. Sakuya was impressed by the way he managed to keep a level head and rather wished their first in person meeting could have been under better circumstances, and farther from Mortimer.

Kicking herself for not arriving sooner, or else insisting on a seating assignment, Sakuya took her place.

Regin gave her a small, courteous nod as she came to take the seat beside him. One slender hand rose to rub at his eyes and thin nose.

"Tired already?" Sakuya asked, trying to make conversation to distract from the man to her right until the debates began.

Smiling, the Puca lowered his hand. "Not at all, or perhaps just a little." He admitted with a note of apology. "Keeping up with Rio-san is quite the challenge."

Sakuya nodded. "I can only imagine." Except she didn't need to, she counted keeping track of the ongoing dialogue as part of her job as Lady of the Sylphs. She knew exactly how much effort Regin had to be devoting to keep up with Rio's attacks. It _had_ to be exhausting, not to mention exacerbating.

"I have to apologize in advance Sakuya-san." Regin smiled wanly. "I have to confess that I've never been in a debate like this."

Sakuya tilted her head as she smiled. The man looked positively ill at ease, something that was almost endearing really. "You really shouldn't worry so much. In fact, I think I'm the one who should be worried tonight if your writing is anything to go by."

"Really?" Regin glanced back at her. "That's too kind Lady Sakuya, but that's not really what I'm worried about. Everyone's going to see this. _Everyone_."

Sakuya was forced to pause as Regin's words sank in. It was easy to forget, sitting up on the brightly orelit stage that that the lobby turned auditorium of Arrun tower was filled to capacity with almost two thousand attending Faeries. And that wasn't all, through some clever spell exploits by the Imps, Puca, and Spriggans, the debate was going to be relayed live to the other Faerie Cities and even to the Royal Palace in Tristania. The Darkness Masters were already setting up their Moonlight Mirror spells at the back of the room, a row of Silver ovoids looking down from the Lobby's second floor.

Slowly, Sakuya felt her own smile fade. Just what had she gotten herself in to? She'd known intellectually that they would be facing not only the people living in Arrun but all over Tristain and even the Nobility, but she hadn't really felt it, that was, until now. But she didn't have time to linger as the massive clock at the center of the Lobby slowly struck the hour. It was time to begin.

"Good evening everyone!" A clear, voice amplified by the special Puca ability Ventriloquism rang out across the lobby as the volunteer proctor for the night took the stage, a Puca woman in her best black maestro attire, probably the most formal piece of clothing she owned. "I'm Noel, and I'll be proctoring tonight's discussion and also forwarding questions to the attendants. But first, I'd like to thank you all for taking an avid interest and for taking time to attend." Nodding to the crowds, the Puca next turned to the five Lords, Regin, and Rio. "And of course, we would all like to extend our greatest thanks to the Fae Lords for making time in their busy schedules."

Sakuya nodded and smiled serenely, Sylph hearing picking up the murmurs of approval, and also the less pleasant mutterings coming from Regin's supporters who had somehow managed to hijack the front rows.

"Without further delay, we will now open the panel for the first question."

Noel reread a small card of paper held in the palm of her white gloved hand. "The first question is actually concerning an issue that has been foremost on everyone's mind for the last six weeks. Understanding that our options and ability to probe the phenomena that brought us here are limited, what measure are being taken by the Lords to search out a way to return home?"

Sakuya raised her hand smoothly. "Actually, I think I would like to answer this one if that is alright."

Noel nodded to the Lady of the Sylphs. "Of course Lady Sakuya."

"Well." Composing her thoughts carefully, Sakuya began hesitantly. "As has been said, our ability at this time to actually analyze the effects of the Transition is limited, we lack both the scientific tools and expertise to examine the Transition as we would another physical phenomena, and the training to determine how magic may be involved. For the time being our understanding is thus limited to simple observations." The words began to come more easily as she spoke and Sakuya found herself having to try harder to slow herself and avoid babbling. "What we can say for now is that the discovery of an artifact from Earth in the Tarbes region most certainly suggests a recurring connection between this world and our own."

Noel allowed the crowd's murmurs to settle before going on. "You mean of course the Iroquois helicopter that was found by the consultants sent to deal with the Pixies at Tarbes?"

Sakuya heard Mortimer mutter something under his breath that sounded vaguely like 'Huey' but chose to ignore it. Instead, she nodded in agreement with Noel's conclusion. "Yes, that would be correct."

More mutters, and then the raising of another hand. Noel nodded to the hand's owner. "Yes, Rio-san?" Rio, oozing with false charm, smiled straight at Sakuya. "Actually, I'd be rather interested to hear how our present Leaders see this discovery helping us to find a way to return to earth, and how that factors into the course they have currently set us on."

Noel, and the eyes of the entire audience returned to Sakuya. The Lady of the Sylphs sank down in her seat as she prepared herself for a very long two hours.

* * *

"Then you mean to say that anyone can put forward these questions?" Colbert whispered to Enya as he sat beside the Salamander girl, trying his best to not look out of place among a veritable sea of pointed ears. He might have been the only human attending personally, though he knew for a fact that the proceedings were being scryed to the Capital by means of the Fae Magic spells.

The odd pair were seated on a bench overlooking the lobby of Arrun Tower from the second floor balcony, others packed tightly around them. It almost wasn't an exaggeration to imagine that every Fae in Arrun had tried to find space, if only standing room, to watch.

Colbert hadn't intended to stay in Arrun to observe the interviews, but circumstances had conspired to make it so, much to his delight. He had arrived that morning with the simple intent of checking on Enya's progress with her ambitious project and to collect the ALfheim reagents that he had wanted to examine for his research. The properties of some of the materials had proven most intriguing.

A Gnome couple, proprietors of a cafe who he had met on his previous visits to the city while seeking a place to eat, had kindly supplied him with a list of names in the market district and sent him along with their blessing and a warning to step cautiously around the more cut throat merchants. There advice had been well given and well taken as he haggled with a Leprechaun alchemist and a pair of Cait Syth Mob hunters for what he required.

After completing his shopping, he had made his way to the Library to discover Enya tucked away in her corner, studiously at work with her pages of notes and papers covered in rows of crossed out words in the Faerie scripts. She had come far in the past weeks, thanks in small part to Colbert's advice helping her to plan and layout the groundwork of what she hoped to achieve. But this was just the start, the Faerie girl had only delved the surface of deep waters and it would not be surprising for it to take months, or even years before her efforts bore fruit. Yet, Colbert noted approvingly, this did not discourage her in the least.

Indeed, the Salamander had a persistence and stubbornness to her that Colbert had rarely seen equaled in all of his years. If she had been a human mage, he would have certainly have considered her a star pupil . . . no, even as a Faerie, though she could not use Human Magecraft, he was impressed by the way she devoured every scrap of knowledge he could supply about magic and its application.

He was rather beginning to think he should offer her a place in the classes at the Academy. The instruction would most certainly be informative and the headmaster would of course allow it. Surely it was easy enough for her to fly back and forth when she needed to consult him, but that was hardly a courteous arrangement. Besides, it might prove instructive for people other than Enya, his student for instance, to learn for a time alongside one of their new fellow countrywomen.

Raising a hand to her lips to silence him, Enya nodded once. "That's right. As long as the Proctors think it's good and nobody else asks first. Now quiet down a bit, I'm trying to listen."

Colbert turned back to the stage which was lit like that of a play house. The very idea that Rulers would be expected to stand before the people they ruled and give account for themselves, from the most powerful merchant to the lowliest peasant. It was absurd, unworkable, absolutely marvelous! Not to mention a miracle that the Fae could make it work. And this was representative of the forms of government of their most prosperous Kingdoms!

Halkegenia had seen its fair share of 'Democracies' and 'Republics' over its long and contested history. The independent City states that had consolidated and eventually formed Germania, and the short lived Republic of Gaul which had fractured for a time from Gallia. Each had failed in its own way. Democracy was an idiot system, rule by a mob that simply could not be expected to make decisions for an entire nation. Republics likewise more often than not, started strong and ambitiously, but quickly lost their enthusiasm, the leadership stagnating and gradually coming to replace the nobility that they had usurped.

If Cromwell's Albion endured for more than a short while, Colbert expected it to follow the patterns of the latter, perhaps enduring for a time longer before returning to its Feudal roots.

Conventional wisdom held that a Kingdom needed an enlightened class to stand above the common people. Those with the resources and time to be educated in diplomacy, law, and statecraft and to hone these arts. In Tristain, Gallia, and Albion, that was more often than not the Landed Nobility. Germania was more likely to give key national positions to its Knights while the nobility attended to their isolated fiefs, and Romalia naturally drew its leadership from the divine authority and wisdom of the Church.

But the Faeries believed that their Leaders should be selected in trust by all of the people. Or at least that those of sound mind, good standing, and sufficient experience should have a vote in choosing who would rule them. Certainly they had hit on a formula that worked where a similar method of rule would have collapsed in Halkgenia, though certainly through fault of circumstance rather than any failing of the human condition.

Colbert suspected, that as with all other things, it was in large part thanks to the Faeries' appreciation for knowledge both current and historical that allowed them to defy that trend.

Learning lead to questions, and questions to further learning, and the inquisitive mind naturally turned its attention to matters beyond daily survival rendering it much more discerning in matters of national politics and interest. Just walking the streets of Arrun and listening to overheard snatches of conversation, the rumors, hear say, and debate on the streets and in the shops and cafes told of a people who were profoundly interested in the world and what events abroad would mean for them at home.

Every Fae was expected to be literate to some degree, and to be read in at least some of their classical works and the basic principles of philosophy, law, and government. While most were not philosophers, lawyers, or governors, none were entirely ignorant. It was then simply a matter of how to listen to the tens of thousands of voices and ensure that their concerns were heard. Such as they were now.

Colbert turned back to the stage as the questions continued to unfold.

"Actually, I'd be rather interested to hear how our present Leaders see this discovery helping us to find a way to return to Earth, and how that factors into the course they have currently set us on."

The challenge came from one of the two Faerie's on stage that were not themselves Lords, the Sylph named Rio. A handsome man, Colbert noted, though that was about all that could be said for him in Enya's opinion.

"Well . . ." The word trailed out thoughtfully from the Lips of Lady Alicia, the petite Lord, almost swallowed up in her formal robes, leaned against the stuffed arm of her chair, speaking loudly so that her voice would be carried by the Puca Ventriloquism spells. " . . . Without going into way too much boring detail, we've decided to start laying out plans for the short, middle, and long terms that coincide with different strategies to find a way to return home."

"Different strategies?" The Puca woman on the stage acting as the Proctor asked, holding her conductor's wand close to her lips to amplify her voice for the crowds.

The First Lady of Freelia nodded eagerly. "Yup. Basically, not even our Tristanian allies know what brought all of us to this world. And they definitely don't know of any magic that can make imaginary things real. In fact, the only evidence we have that this was caused by magic is so far circumstantial even thought it's still our best bet. So we have to start our research from square one. Since we don't even know where to begin we're pursuing a lot of different strategies right now and there are basically three possibilities."

Using her fingers to keep tally, Alicia elaborated. "Option one is that whatever brought us here is still around and can send us back as soon as we figure it out. We don't know how likely that is, or how it would work, but some of the researchers in the Royal Acadamia are helping out and we do have people trying to assemble a bigger picture right now. That's where the helicopter we found comes in."

Colbert perked up at the mention of the ingenious Faerie device. It had been his great pleasure to be able to spend a short time examining it at the facility that was being raised along the highway between Arrun and Tristania. To think that such a thing flew entirely without the aid of wings or magic! He shook his head, of course, that was hardly what mattered at the moment. What was important was . . . well . . . Lady Alicia was explaining it rather succinctly.

"Right." Alicia nodded again. "That helicopter proves that whatever brought us here has interacted with our world in the past. It also gives us lots of interesting questions which, as everyone knows, are just as important as answers!"

A hand shot up in the front row, belonging to a cat eared girl in pressed white blouse and pleated skirt, clutching a piece of pencil and sheaf of paper in her hand to take notes.

"Yes?" Noel pointed her conductors wand to the girl, permitting her to speak directly.

"Sorry to interrupt, but would you mind telling us for the record what you mean by important questions?"

Alicia placed a finger to her lips, tilting her head in an exaggerated show of contemplation. "Hmm. Well, for one thing, the Huey is around sixty years old, so we know things have been transported before, and that it wasn't just us. But how often does it happen, and what are the criteria? Is it random? We just don't know. We're hoping that now that we know what to look for, that we might be able to find more things that have come over from our world that might tell us more about the Transition. But most of all, it raises questions of how a physical helicopter could be transported but also transform us into our ALfheim avatars. It might be that these are two different or linked phenomena and if one happens more often than the other, we might be able to use it to return home."

Another hand shot up and Noel pointed, this time to a Gnome. "Wait, if the Transition was different, then if we used whatever brought a Huey here from the Real World rather than ALfheim to return to earth, would that mean we'd still be Faeries when we got to the other side?"

An interesting question, Colbert supposed, and also one that probably occupied many of the Fae. He couldn't imagine the opportunity to wake to the image of one's real face would be greeted with anything but relief by most. Here too he was intrigued to see Alicia shrug apologetically. "Sorry, but that's definitely not something we can rule on for now."

Murmurs spread through the Lobby and were allowed settle before Alicia continued. "Anyway, the key here is that we might be able to learn something in the short term, but that we can't really say for sure what will come of it. So while we gather information, we've been trying to establish good diplomatic ties with Tristain." She chuckled, and the entire stage seemed to brigthen. "Can't send people all over the country to look for clues if we've got bad relations with the locals!"

"Diplomatic ties like the ones that have gotten us embroiled in a local war?" Rio butted in with a false coolness that made him sound almost reasonable. Even so, Colbert almost recoiled at the bluntness.

Colbert had long ago tired of war and much preferred peace to its alternative. But even he could not deny the necessity to take up arms against Albion. Circumstance rarely gave people the luxury to choose who they could make peace with and who they would have to fight. Surely the Fae as a mostly enlightened people must have agreed with that sentiment.

But he saw more heads nodding in agreement then he would have liked, and the indecisive murmurs all around him, not many, but shocking in number given the dire circumstances. H. "But why . . ."

"Smart people do dumb things sometimes." Enya breathed at his side, not taking her eyes from the stage. "Believe me, it's better to just assume everyone's an idiot until proven otherwise."

Colbert nodded, reluctantly, before returning his attention to the stage.

"Neh?" Alicia tilted her head curiously. "For one thing we kind of need to build up a base of operations and a good reputation if we want to be able to send people abroad to search out ways home. We won't get that if we abandon the people we've just allied with."

Rio's lips pressed into a thin smile as he sat back in his chair. "Is that so? I have it on good authority that the Treaty may have been signed with foreknowledge of the upcoming war."

More murmurs caused Colbert to look about. Such rumors had of course been spreading, even at the academy where students naturally discussed the politics involving their families. Of course, it was almost accepted as a tacit truth that the Faeries Lords had understood that there was a real possibility of war in the near futur,e so this hardly came as a surprise. But to hear it said out loud seemed to galvanize the more suspicious among the crowds.

If this revelation surprised or intimidated Alicia Rue, it did not show in the slightest in her answer. "Wow, that seems a little unfair. Everyone knew that Tristain might have to fight Albion, it was just hoped that they'd have help from Germania. And that might still happen, the Tristanians have some very smart cookies for diplomats."

Yes, Colbert had to agree with that assessment. Cardinal Mazarin had certainly been doing his utmost from what he had heard to salvage something from the now defunct marriage agreement. At last word he was making some progress, the Dunkirk Operation had turned Tristain into a strong potential ally in the eyes of the larger Kingdom. With any luck, when the fighting started in earnest, Tristain would have some sort of foreign aid to count on.

Rio's smile never falstered. "It's not whether or not the war was going to be fought that I question." Rio said. "My concern is why we are fighting it at all and at the order of people with no formal authorityl. But I believe that is a discussion for later in the evening, please go on."

Alicia watched the opposition Leader for a moment as if trying to delve what he might be up to. "Like I was saying, in the short term we're doing our best to establish ourselves and our settlements here in Tristain. The transition didn't just copy and paste ALfheim into this world, it took the intent of objects, buildings, and animals, and filled in the blanks, so the settlements actually have it pretty good with plumbing and sewage networks. But there's still a lot we have to do if the cities are going to remain livable even in the short term."

Another hand, a question about public sanitation and hygiene initiatives.

"It's a pretty daunting task, so we've had to consolidate things for the time being. I'm sure everyone's seen the work setting up the new bathhouses and restroom facilities. Lucky us we have some people with backgrounds in civic engineering. They're already drawing up plans to replace the latrines and chamber pots with an actual sewage disposal set up." Ending humorously, Alicia added. "So if anyone wants to get in some slime hunting in the sewers, you should hurry up before it gets too unpleasant!"

Even more shocking than the lewd humor was its reception, some of the Fae showing amusement and even snickering under their breath. The very idea of a Ruler doing such a thing before their subjects! Colbert knew that the interview was being viewed in the Palace by Moonlight Mirror, he could only hope their fair Princess wouldn't get too many ideas. A Tristanian Noble of good standing would never dream of speaking in such a way save in private while Lady Alicia made light of the matter openly. And seemingly to her benefit judging by the response from the Faeries around him.

Again the Cait who had first raised her hand, he fathomed from Enya's comments that she was some sort of 'Reporter' a person employed to gather information for the periodical broadsheets that the Fae enjoyed reading on the message boards posted throughout the city. "All this talk of getting the city's fully liveable, and then there's the initiatives encouraging people to start up their own businesses. It sounds like plans are being made to settle in for the long haul."

The 'Long Haul', Colbert thought, what a simple way to put it. Truthfully, given all of the friends, loved ones, wonders, and conveniences the Fae had left behind in their homeland, he couldn't blame them for wanting nothing more than to return as quickly as possible. But by now, he knew better than most how unlikely it was. Lady Alicia had spoken the truth, the Acadamia, Colbert, and even the Headmaster himself, were all in agreement that the Transition was unlike any magic seen before. It's unraveling would not be a simple task.

But alas, that was certainly not something any of the Faeries wanted to hear, underlined by Lady Alicia's reluctant answer. "You're right. That actually brings me to phase two of three." Alicia raised her hand again, her middle finger joining with her index in the tally. "In the likely event that we can't just hitchhike out of here on whatever brought us to Halkegenia, we'll have to start work out how to make our own way home." Alicia shifted to allow her tail to hang over the side of her chair, swaying of its own accord as she continued to speak. "That will take lots of time and a lot of money and other resources which means we won't be able to keep supporting everyone on just the coffers. In fact, we'll have to start easing off pretty soon to prevent problems. It's not good to add so much gold to the economy so quickly." Alicia shrugged again. "Besides, if was happen to find a way home soon, a little hard work won't hurt anyone. And if we don't it'll be important in our battle against our worst enemy."

"And now you're suggesting labor camps?" Rio cut in before Noel could say a word.

Alicia perked up with a smile. "Actually, I was talking about boredom! Sixty thousand people need things to do to make themselves feel useful and so they can afford a few little luxuries. Really, right now, a lot of people still have way too much time on their hands and that's gotta stop. We're all in this together after all."

"I would actually like to say that I agree with Lady Alicia." The soft, shyly spoken voice of the Puca Regin called out from the opposite end of the stage, barely carrying to Colbert's ears despite the sound amplifying magic. "Seeing to a strong civil base is essential to support our efforts of returning to Japan, and I also think that if we're considering the longer term it would be best to start laying out the framework of the civil governments by starting at the city Level before we work up to the representatives and Faerie Lords."

More murmuring, this time, much more, the crowds giving many small nods of agreement. Regin was not an impressive man, nor charismatic in person, but his words most certainly resonated with these people.

"You mentioned three." A voice said without raising a hand.

The echo made it hard to find, but eventually eyes fell on a Salamander near the middle of the Lobby. Noel took careful aim and nodded for him to continue. "You said that setting up the cities was phase two of three. So then, what's phase three?"

"Don't say it." Enya whispered.

Say what? Colbert wondered.

Alicia tried to smile, she real did, but seemed to realize that it would be taken poorly no matter how she replied. Instead, she just looked a little tired as she answered. "Well, we'd be irresponsible if we didn't plan for everything."

"Don't say it!"

"If phase one is settling in for the short term, and phase two is medium to long term planning . . .

"Please."

" . . . Phase three is what happens if things become permanent."

Colbert might have been new to the Faerie idea of 'Liberal Democracy' but he was all too familiar with the faint inhalation of breath and the pain looks all around him. He place a hand on Enya's shoulder as the girl leaned forward, eyes squeezed shut. The expression of a young person who was accepting, only now, that they might never see home again.


	20. Exchange of Views

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 7 - Part 3

"Oh my, I hope saying that that doesn't hurt Miss Alicia's position."

Seated beside her mother the Queen, Henrietta wrung her hands as she watched the proceedings unfold from the vantage provided by the Moonlight Mirror.

The spell first used by the Faeries for long range communications had tonight been re-purposed and combined with Puca and Spriggan magic to allow the Royal Family and their allies to peer into the Faerie City and watch as the interview unfolded.

Strange to observe at a distance like this something that was unfolding at this very moment.

Was this really how the Faeries ruled themselves? Henrietta wondered. Surely the people needed to be seen to and their wishes respected under the law, but this seemed too much.

"Watch well Princess and learn from the errors of others." The Duchess de La Valliere said from her own seat upon one of the half dozen sofas that had been set close together at the center of the parlor, filled with members of the Nobility.

Henrietta had thought of this as a meeting of allies, but to look around it was more a meeting of acquaintances of convenience. Naturally, diplomats and observers had been sent to the Faerie cities, people well versed in statecraft who could take soundings of the attitudes and views of Tristain's sizable new population of mages. Some in fact would be in the audience now, watching the populace as much as they watched the Faerie Lords.

Many were still waiting to see just what the consequence of these new arrivals would be. But for most of the high nobility, dealings in the Capital or on their own lands prevented their attendance even as their new alliance with the Fae demanded their attention. Thus did Henrietta find herself in the strangest mix of company.

Naturally in attendance were the Duke and Duchess de La Valliere and the Count of Woestte, two of the Crown's strongest supporters by inclination of loyalty and by strong self interest respectively. Though Henrietta continued to regard Woestte as a thoroughly unpleasant man, she couldn't help but admire the way he had set about profiting himself, and by extension Tristain, through his business relations with the Fae, even as he chafed under the 'unjust' terms of trade that required him to deal fairly with the Faeries or face Crown sanction.

The Vallieres of course remained above reproach, the Duchess' contribution to operation Dunkirk fully absolving her slighted honor for her dealings with deceased Viscount of Wardes.

Which reminded the Princess to find out where exactly Louise had gotten to these past few days. The last she'd heard was that she was working with Lieutenant Agnes of the Firearms squadron on a related matter, most strange.

Less welcome was the Lord Justice Richmond, a high ranking member of the Legal Collegiate that oversaw and enforced the laws and treaties ordered by the Crown. Having loudly declared his disapproval of the current measures to instate the Faeries as members of the Nobility, Richmond's interest was more official than personal. Simply put, he was there to observe that the Faeries did indeed honor their half of the alliance, and to prosecute viciously if they failed to do so.

Or in other words, he sought evidence that would strengthen the case of the Radicals who still wanted nothing to do with the Faeries. Though their faction had lost some strength after the Fae had come to Tristain's aid, it had been more a reordering than a dissolution.

The Faces had changed, but there were still those who resented the Fae, either wronged by the Transition or simply 'bigoted' as Sakuya would say.

Henrietta would much rather Richmond not be here at all. But for now he had to be courted, an honorable member of the Legal Collegiate with many allies in the house of Peers. She didn't trust the man though she could not place why, nor did Wales who likened him to Cromwell in the days prior to the opening of the Rebellion.

Thankfully, she need not look upon him, he sat well to the side and back From Henrietta, isolated in conversation with one of his aides, quietly exchanging comments at every exchange that floated from the mirror.

Sitting with the Princess herself was Henrietta's Regent, Cardinal Mazarin who had made as near a complete recovery from his injuries and resumed his duties in full, and her mother who had been taking a more active role in the affairs of the Kingdom as of late, if only as a temporary figurehead to bolsters Mazarin's policies.

Proceedings were already apace to crown Henrietta as Tristain's next Queen and Monarch, an unprecedented step for an unmarried Noble Woman, but a necessary one to strengthen the Crown's political position in preparation for the war.

Tristain could ill afford the indecisiveness of being lead to war by a house of barely disciplined Aristocrats. But the going was slow as that self same house of Nobles attempted to sabotage the Kingdom's defense at every turn.

Cardinal Mazarin insisted that this was normal, but Henrietta could hardly believe it was not intentional on the part of Reconquista sympathizers. Perhaps this was why Germania entrusted so many important positions to Knights newly raised to the Nobility.

Not all of the Nobles in attendance were of Tristanian Lineage, though many of these foreigners were more welcome than the likes of Richmond and Woestte. Prince Wales sat close by, along with the Countess of Windsor and his own adviser Paris. Having survived thanks in large part to the Faeries, it was natural for Albionians in general and the Prince and Countess in particular, to take an interest in all matters that involved the Fae, and the interview tonight was no exception.

Whimsically, Henrietta wished the viewing could be a bit more private, in such a fashion that she might seat herself beside the Prince without worrying for how it would look. Alas, a semblance of propriety had to be maintained, at least in public, and there had been little time for themselves as much as they both wished otherwise.

Since his safe arrival in Tristain, Wales had devoted himself entirely to ensuring that Henrietta's Kindgom did not meet the same fate as his own. Though only two thousand strong, the Royalists brought with them a core of hardened veterans and skilled Albionian Sailors and Navigators that Wales and Count La'Ramee had wasted hardly a breath putting to good use to help bring the Tristanian fleet up to snuff.

Much of the past two weeks had been spent in drill aboard the ships birthed at the edge of Tristania, crews learning how best to handle the rigging of the captured Albionian vessels and practicing with the new model cannons that had been liberated at the battle of York.

When last they'd had a private moment, Wales had cursed the sloppiness of the Tristanian crews who he compared to 'green winged' Airmen hardly fit to act as ballast, though given how easily he had surrendered to her teasing, Henrietta suspected he wasn't entirely serious, and by every account they were fast improving. She didn't expect it would be long before Wales promoted them to merely 'incompetent'.

While Wales had dealt with the military, and his Adviser Paris had managed political matters on his behalf, the exile Countess of Windsor had been fighting her own battles alongside and sometimes against the likes of Count Woestte and the other entrenched mercantile nobility. Emily's claims to her family's trade holdings had been acknowledged in Tristain and by the Germanian Hanza, and with their backing she was set to acquire the wealth that was rightfully hers in Gallia and Romalia as well.

The young Countess had wasted no time in turning her small fortune directly around and into the coffers of the Faeries, investing even more fervently than Count Woestte and the Vallieres in the Faerie inventions and plans for steel production. This had earned her the attention of the both the Gnomes and the Leprechaun Lord who had actively courted her as a patron in their ongoing endeavors.

Personally, Henrietta thought this was a wonderful turn of events for Emily who was ever eager to partake of any dealing with the Fae.

Nor were all of the Nobles in attendance _human_. Seated on the sofa between Henrietta and Wales were a pair of Fae, very special ones in point of fact. Henrietta had been pleased to make their acquaintance, for it was in no small part thanks to one of them that Wales was alive today rather than slain by the Viscount of Wardes. For that alone she owed them more than she could ever repay. It only seemed natural to extend her hospitality.

The first was the Lady Asuna, former Commander of the Knights of Blood, who had introduced herself fully as Yuki Kirigaya Asuna, wife of the Black Swordsman of Aincrad Kirito, but would never admit to being a 'Lady' or any sort of 'Noble' despite holding right to the title as a mage and possessing both bearing and beauty that made her the very model of a young Aristocrat.

The second was a beautiful young girl of deceptively human appearance dressed in dark blue skirt and and pink sweater. Black haired and every inch the image of a younger Asuna, Kirigaya Yui, leaned against her mother's side, watching the image before her with rapt attention. Henrietta had met the young Faerie once before in the guise of a Navigation Pixie and now was pleased to meet her again in the form of a human girl. Though at the same time she had been astonished at first to learn that she claimed Asuna to be her mother.

It had taken some explaining to make it clear that she had not misunderstood and that Yui was indeed the adopted child of Asuna and Kirito, and as much loved as their own blood. After just a few days in their company, the Princess could see why. The warmth and affection between the two was genuinely that of a mother and her child and it had become a contest between Henrietta and Emily to see which could earn the honor of cuddling the young Faerie girl the most, usually by diverting Asuna's attention so that Yui would need looking after.

At the moment Henrietta was trailing far behind having expected the fencing match between Asuna and Captain Hammond to last somewhat longer before the Manticore Knight's utter defeat, while Emily had won an entire night of sitting with Yui in her lap by coaxing Asuna to show off her cooking. Perhaps Henrietta could bribe Yui with some sweets, though if Asuna's cooking was anything to go by, only the best Royal Chefs would stand a chance.

But that was a matter for another time. There was a very good reason to have asked them here tonight that went beyond simple hospitality and that was simply to explain some of the Faeries customs that were quite at odds with anything Henrietta had been trained to expect. Such as now as Henrietta speculated aloud about what had just been said by the First Lady of Freelia.

A Leader, whether they derived their power by right of birth or commission, should never think to admit such an unpleasant possibility to the masses lest they make themselves appear weak. The only thing that was worse than not being in control was to _appear_ to not be in control. Another of Mazarin's catechisms.

"You might be right." Asuna admitted thoughtfully. "But I don't know what other choice Alicia-san could have made."

"Holding her tongue would have done well enough." The Duchess de La Valliere said, eying the Fairy woman with an appraising eye.

Mazarin added. "I don't suppose there was any way around it."

Asuna nodded again she hugged her daughter close to herself. "It probably won't be that bad. I think a lot of people have thought about it. Alicia-san is just the first person to say it out loud. Once people have time to think it ove,r they'll settle down again."

Henrietta mulled this over and judged that the Cardinal and Asuna were likely right. This was not a simple matter in the least. "I should think it's more important how Lady Alicia manages things _now._ wouldn't you say?"

And on that matter, the murmurs of the audience had finally fallen to a manageable level. The interview continuing where it had left off.

The Puca announcer seemed unshaken by the Cait Syth Leader's shocking reply to the questio. Henrietta had heard that she was one of the Faerie soldiers, a former member of the Mob Patrols who had taken a political position in Cadenza now that things had started to settle. Another of the Fae women taking up a role oft reserved for men.

"You mean to say that a method of returning home may be beyond our means to replicate." Noel said. "Then . . . that being the case . . ." She flipped through the note cards. "Let's move on to an equally important matter. The short terms and intermediate steps that you mentioned earlier. Some of the top questions tonight have to do with income and taxation. Since this is an economic matter, I would like to ask that Lord Rute answer . . ."

* * *

"Hmm, yes, yes, thank you Noel-san." The rotund form of the Leprechaun Lord sat up a bit straighter in his seat.

Mazarin knew little of the stories of Leprechaun's, the Albionian fables of the Faeries, but Rute seemed to fit what he'd heard perfectly. A short man, his overall frame was rotund, giving the impression of being only twice as tall as he was wide, garbed in a brass buttoned coat of impeccable red fabric, hair and mustache glinting with a polished metallic sheen. He was also said to be a great lover of gold, another thing shared with the fables, and the architect of the Faerie plans to integrate themselves as productive citizens of Tristain.

In a most uncharacteristic display of interest, the old Regent made himself comfortable. This ought to be good.

"The first question, Lord Rute, given the considerable sum of gold and silver that currently remains within the coffers of the Salamanders, Gnomes, and Leprechauns, and Undines, why are talks being raised of levying a tax on the new businesses so quickly?"

An interesting question, Mazarin wondered which of the Fae had composed it. Naturally, a dislike for taxes seemed to be a trait common to all beings. Mazarin might even dare say it was something humans shared even with the Elves. Too much of the work of taxed Gold was hidden from the eye, in the roadways, and in the nations defense, but seen all too clearly in the vestments of the Crown. It would be interesting to see how the Fae thought on such matters.

Rute simply -hmphd- heavily, a motion that caused the front of his coat to bulge. "This again? We've talked about it quite enough in the message board posts if people would be bothered to read." Mustache twitching as he grumbled. "Oh, I suppose now is the best time to explain it . . ."

"Yes." The interloper named Rio said, leaning forward in his seat. "I think we would all like to know why the Leprechauns and Salamanders are hoarding such a vital resource at a time like this."

Mazarin had to try hard to disguise a snort of contempt. This man was allowed to speak as he pleased before an assembly of Mages? With hardly anyone of note to his backing!

Why the Faerie Lords and their own supporters didn't simply shrug off their fools and get back to dealing with the real meat of politics never ceased to mystify the old Regent.

But even Lady Asuna seemed to think it was important that he be allowed to speak, albeit she seemed at a loss to articulate just why. Perhaps it was some sort of Faerie sport to eviscerate such men in a public forum.

Rute's eyes narrowed as he shot the Sylph a displeased glance. "I scent awhiff of criticism Rio-san. Please, do go on."

"My pleasure." The Sylph said smoothly. "While we're on the topic of business, Lord Rute, I would like to mention that so far, only one in four Fae have so far found permanent employment, a paying job. And yet there is already talks of placing conditions on further food aid and levying taxes on property. Meanwhile, the 'Government' we have assembled seems good only for guarding the piles of treasure they have happened upon from those who need it."

Lovely, if hollow words. That at least, Mazarin could appreciate. Though his lines were drivel, Rio spoke them well and that could matter a great deal when making an appeal in person. Personal charisma could not make up for the failure of one's writing, where ideas were forced to stand on merit as words on parchment, but this Arena was to Monsieur Rio's advantage.

"You're accusing us of being stingy?" Rute spluttered, facing growing red. "Do you have any idea how much feeding sixty thousand people costs? The mounts of the Cait Syth? The fuel for cooking?!"

"I'm sure you can give me an itemized list, Rute-san." Rio answered confidently. "But can you answer me this? Our Lords, yourself included, are eager to hand out swords and armor to those who will die for you, but you guard that gold like Dragons." Rising partially from his seat, the Sylph raised his voice. "It isn't just tokens that you generated while farming in a game anymore, that is the lifeblood of a vibrant economy, our economy, and you spend it off piecemeal to keep the masses placated under your rule. You may have seized real power in an emergency, and done well enough early on. But every day you consolidate that grip on the treasury, and on the levers of Government of your own design."

"And what would you propose we do with the treasury?! Boot strapping an economy from nothings is no place for amateurs!" Rute grunted, throwing his hands up in the air. "In fact, it's never been done before!"

"Why not put it to good use in the hands of the people then?" Rio asked with a magnanimous sweep of his arm. All very formal, all very regal, as grand and sincere as an actor playing King. "Sixty thousand players, over a third with some form of crafting skill, three quarters that can find new uses for their skills and magic."

Leaning closer to Mazarin, Queen Marianne whispered in his ear. "Pray tell, is he asking what I think?"

"I do believe so." Mazarin agreed, the man wanted the Lords to simply throw money at the people!

Snorting loudly enough to be heard even through the mirror, Rute gave Rio a look of contempt. "That's your proposal? Mass distribution of seed capital? If you'd read my writing on the matter, you'd understand _why_ that's unworkable. Economics, Rio-san, we aren't in the twenty second century, or even the twentieth. Gold and silver isn't just a market, it is the _only_ market that matters. To elaborate on what Lady Alicia only touched on earlier, adding so much gold to Tristain's economy so quickly is bound to cause problems that would only serve to crush the fledgeling enterprise you want to nurture!"

Mazarin nodded, if only to himself, what Rute said made a good deal of sense, as Gallia had learned to its great disadvantage almost a century ago after several very lucrative military campaigns. The accumulation of Gold had first strengthened and then undermined the Kindgom's position as the precious mineral lost value within the borders of the Kingdom of Earth and Gallian minted coins fell victim to devaluation and manipulation.

Although the Faeries did not posses quite so much gold as to make a repeat of that puzzling contradiction at all likely, a very real danger did exist that Tristain's own currency could be undermined by the excess gold entering into circulation so quickly, and that was without contemplating the effects of the even more precious metals that the Fae had brought with them, their Mythril and Orihalcam. It was a matter to which Mazarin had been devoting a great deal of thought, as had Rute and his fellow Lords.

"More importantly, we have a plan for that gold to bring about a sustainable economy so that we can continue to provide for everyone." Rute leaned back in his seat. "Really now Rio-san, we've made our plans clear to anyone who has been keeping up with my posts on the message board." A deafening silence spread across the lobby, causing Rute to look about with surprise. "P-people _have_ been reading those haven't they?! They provide a perfectly serviceable general overview of our plans and finances . . . I made it all very legible!"

Mazarin listened with half an ear while conversing swiftly with the Queen.

"Did you understand what he was talking about, Mazarin?" Marianne asked.

"Some." The old Cardinal admitted. "Though in our past conversations, I've been made to believe the Fae have developed very complex systems of commerce in their homeland. It may behoove us to see how the Fae's experiments in their own territories evolve." Perhaps if Rute's efforts were met with success, it would be possible for Mazarin to procure translations of these 'Posts' he had made to the message boards and the books they had been inspired by. They might prove most instructive.

"I must agree." Marianne said, turning back to the mirror.

The Proctor simply smiled nervously, waving a gloved hand to placate the fuming Lord. "Uhm. It may be that your reports were a little too intimidating Rute-san. Perhaps you'd like to explain that next?"

Reluctantly, the Leprechaun Lord nodded his head. "The thrust of the matter is that we must meet every unit of gold that we add to the economy of Tristain and Halkegenia with an equal unit of productivity. Normally this might be difficult to regulate, but the technology and works projects we've been discussing with the Tristanians will play a large part in boosting Tristain's economy and creating our own. And of course there are the private interests that are willing to invest in us."

More hands rose from the crowd. Noel made her choice, a young Imp, he could have been anyone, a merchant, a worker, his voice was given equal weight. "Investments? You mean the furnaces that the Gnomes are setting up?"

"Yes." Rute agreed. "While the methods are relatively simple, the Halkegenians lack a means of large scale steel production. Introducing such a method will provide a reliable trade good for us and also generate new employment opportunities."

"Chiefly around Tau-Tona and Goibniu." Regin was quick to add in. "And shouldn't it be mentioned that those same investors are most interested in weapons production? That will make our cities targets once the war begins."

"Hmph. Well, there _is_ a war in the making." Rute grumbled. "But yes, the Vallieres and Countess of Windsor are two of our chief investors. I suppose that would best be answered by Lord Mortimer . . ."

* * *

"For such a decisive man on the battlefield, he is most definitely not so when off of it." The Duke de La Valliere whispered softly in his wife's ear.

It might seem strange to some to see a Duke consulting so closely with his spouse over political matters. A Noblewoman was expected to wield power softly after marriage, through managing the household, the courting of friends, and seeking proper wives and husbands for her sons and daughters. But the Duke and Duchess had always been this way, sharing quietly in every decision.

"I suppose every man has a great failing." The Duchess decided. Though why this _softness_ off the battlefield had to be Mortimer's, only God and the Founder could say.

Karin Desiree de La Valliere had lived her life upholding the Rule of Steel and its most important tenant. From God and the Founder, to the Crown and the Nobility flowed power and authority. The Royal Family ruled by blood lineage leading back to Brimir, and by extension, they were above reproach. The same held true of the Nobility, albeit to a lesser extent.

How a man like Mortimer could ever have allowed himself to be maneuvered into a position where he held authority by the whims of commission rather than on virtue of merit was beyond her.

The Faeries claimed a foundation based on 'Rule of Law', the name alone had almost been enough for her to relent and entertain the naive notion. But rulers constantly beholden to the people were no real rulers at all. Weak laws crafted by weak lawmakers, never could a Kingdom stand on that!

While the Former Manticore Knight was intrigued, dare say even eager to see the Faerie inventions and combat prowess for herself and evaluate their worth, she was less impressed by their idea of Government. Nothing illustrated this better than watching Lord Mortimer squander time defending his actions before an imbecile. What that said of the Salamander Lord himself was best left to the imagination.

"The War with Albion enforces both military and economic necessities on ourselves and Tristain." Mortimer replied to a question from a small Cait Syth woman near the center of the audience. She had asked how the War would effect the day to day lives of those that weren't fighting directly.

"Yes, everyone will be expected to make a sacrifice. Taxes will have to be levied and we will be required to supply a fixed proportion of heads for the Kingdom's defense, primarily in supporting roles as messengers, scouts, and medics, roles that will carry a lower risk of casualties. This arragnement benefits us as well as the Tristanians by forming a pact of mutual defense. It was after all only with Tristanian interventon that we were able to rescue the SAO survivors trapped on Albion and likewise only with our assistance that the Royalists were successfully evacuated. The simple fact of the matter is that we will need each other if we are to survive and make a haven for ourselves while seeking a way home."

"I would contest that." Rio stepped in. If Karin were there, she would have likely dropped a wind hammer on the idiot and been done with it. With his Faerie constitution he'd even likely survive.

"I'm sure you would." Mortimer noted with only a slightest breath of exacerbation. But still he yielded to the handsome fool. What madness!

"First, let me say that I cannot criticize the masterful execution of Operation Dunkirk, nor the bravery of the volunteers who fought valiantly." Rio droned on, his voice sounding like an animal bleat to Karin's ears. "But what need have we to fight at all?"

The response of the crowd was drowned out by the rush of wind that swirled around Karin and over the other guests in the parlor at that very moment. Candles flickered and even the mage lit chandelier began to sway. She didn't know when, but she'd grabbed hold of her wand for lack of something else to squeeze, the flare of anger channeling almost unintentionally. She would have cursed herself for her lack of control at any other time, but not now.

"That man speaks treason!" Karin rose from her seat, pointing accusingly towards the mirror beyond which lay Rio, the pointy eared traitor!

"Karin, please!" Queen Marianne said.

"Your Majesty, no, Marianne," Karin addressed her sovereign directly, "Such words from the lips of a Nobleman or an affront! This must be addressed at once or . . ."

Lord Justice Richmond chuckled darkly behind her, causing Karin to turn.

"Or what, pray tell Duchess de La Valliere?" The older nobleman asked out loud. "It is the Price of the Fae's allegiance to Tristain, that fellow can say whatever he pleases within the Cities and estates of the Faeries and without fear of legal consequence beyond."

"That doesn't mean we can't have him turned over to be made an example of." Karin growled, only then noticing the small tug of the hand, her husband pulling her back down onto the Sofa.

But, as satisfying as that might have been, she knew, frustratingly, that it wouldn't happen. Sakuya for one would never allow it, a weak willed woman who thought too much of being _liked_. Karin could see why the Princess might be intrigued by her and court the Faerie Lord as a friend. Exotic acquaintances appealed to girls at that age, but it was friendship that she would most certainly drift away from as she learned how vapid such people really were. And good riddance for that!

Karin's near outburst had drawn the attention of everyone in the room, even the Faeries who had been maintaining the moonlight mirror and its accompanying charms. By the time Karin was seated, Mortimer was already speaking again.

Ever blunt, Mortimer merely shrugged. "I wasn't aware that there was an alternative. The rulers of Albion made their intentions quite well known, as it were."

"The letter demanding terms of surrender, yes I know." The Sylph smiled in a way that inexplicably enraged Karin. "Interesting that this letter appeared only _just _after the treaty signing. And only _after_ terms were agreed that we would provide direct aid for the Kingdom's defense. Like I said earlier, I don't think that was a coincidence."

Karin might have been surprised if she hadn't been busy wrestling with her anger. Rio couldn't possibly have been smart enough to have come to that conclusion himself, could he? Though perhaps she was giving him too little credit. Now that the reality of events had been given time to set in, some of her fellow Nobles were beginning to realize how they had been had in the very last days of the negotiations. Likewise, it did not seem to overly surprise the Faeries either.

"But you would agree that it was fortuitous, would you not?" Mortimer asked back. "A war is no time to be negotiating terms of settlement with Tristain."

"I don't think fortune had anything to do with it, Mortimer-san." Rio leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "In fact, I think you and the other Lords had a good idea about what was happening even before the ink on the Treaty had begun to dry. And I think you did so with hardly a thought to the alternatives."

"What alternatives would those be?" Mortimer asked. "Surrender I suppose? Or should we have fled Arrun and Tristain?"

No, Karin thought, for his foibles, Mortimer was not a coward.

"I would have proposed neutrality as a matter of fact." Rio answered confidently.

The Salamander's brow rose, red eyes boring clinically into the side of Rio's skull as if attempting to observe some fatal malady of the brain. "You mean line up to be slaughtered?" Mortimer asked.

"I mean that we should have attempted diplomacy first. But now that option is lost thanks to rashness." Rio shook his head. "We are Japanese before we are Fae? Isn't that how Sakuya-san said it? We Japanese are a peace loving people who have long shunned the use of violence and shouldn't be eagerly involving ourselves in a conflict that is no business of ours. Opening a dialogue to seek the safe return of the SAO survivors should have been our first step. Instead we needlessly burned our bridges with a surprise attack and made personal enemies out of an entire Kingdom."

Only her husband's hand prevented Karin from flying into a rage once more. If she ever met Rio in person, she would strangle the little son of a bastard and a whore. The muttering from the other side of the room drew her eyes to the Faerie Swordswoman and her daughter, special guests of Prince Wales and the Countess of Windsor.

"Mama?"

The dark haired girl looked worried as she buried her head against Asuna's side. Never had Karin seen such a young girl read her mother so thoughtfully, nor show her concern so publicly. The child had to be almost ten, well past the point where she should have begun to learn proper composure. But with her mother's coddling, and her undisciplined father, there was surely no helping it.

The Faerie Noblewoman snaked an arm around her daughter's shoulder. "He wasn't there, he doesn't know." Asuna breathed softly. "He wasn't there . . . he doesn't . . . couldn't know." She repeated, less a statement and a more mantra. Even from here, Karin could see the hate in the girl's eyes. Good, at least some of the Fae felt properly about this.

Conversation was picking up in the audience and the Proctor had to ask repeatedly for silence before the Faeries began to listen. When the noise fell low enough for the interview to be heard again, the unassuming Puca who had thus remained largely silent began to speak. Words thoughtfully measured.

"With all due respect to Mortimer-san, that does seem very suspicious to me as well. But really, we didn't have much of a choice once we accepted the help of Tristain to prevent everyone from starving." Raising slim hands to ward off any hasty replies, he continued. "That is to say, I ah . . . I think that there were . . . realities that had to be accepted . . . accepted and uhm . . ." Pausing, the man took a breath. "Well in any case, whether or not the Lords knew about the prospect of war with Albion _before_ or _after_ the treaty was signed a more important concern is what this will mean from here on . . . I . . ."

"Oh, I think it's quite important." Rio growled. "Mortimer-san and the others have so graciously put themselves up on stage tonight to hear our questions."

"Which you have soundly derailed!" Regin raised his voice to a shout before catching himself. Shocked at his own outburst, he settled back into his seat.

"Derailed? Hardly!" The Sylph waved his hands to the Proctor and then to Mortimer and Sakuya. "I for one would simply like an answer to a single question which has not been given no matter how many times I ask. That is, what possessed self appointed rulers to sign a treaty on the behalf of sixty thousand people? Because they were elected? In a game!"

A game that they had apparently done marvelously well at preparing them, if their successes so far were any indication. Sakuya might have been too concerned with her image, and Rute an uninspiring orator, but they possessed talent that was rare even among the nobility. Their frailties aside, they had proven themselves in the only court that mattered. Regin thought likewise.

"Maybe we didn't elect them, but someone had to step up and lead until the immediate crisis was resolved, which is to say that . . . uhm . . ." The man grimaced as if trying to recall something that he had carefully rehearsed but not quite perfectly memorized "Well . . . The exact wording of the Treaty is unfortunate, but without it, we wouldn't be able to have this conversation in the first place. Uhm . . . I mean, we would still be busy just struggling to survive." Regin flushed, shaking his head. "In any case, Lord Mortimer's effectiveness speaks for itself." The Puca scholar nodded to the Salamander Lord who gave a curt bob of a acknowledgment.

"So now you're one of Mortimer's supporters?" Rio spoke with mock confusion. "Or do I have that wrong?"

"Does this have a point, Rio-san?" The Proctoring Puca intervened, only for Regin to speak over her.

"What?!" Regin spluttered as the topic was changed on him. "I . . . I think that Lord Mortimer and the others have simply performed admirably, but now that we have a lull, I would very much like them to seek legitimacy with the people."

"Very earnest words Regin." If Rio was flustered the opposition he showed no sign of it. "But aren't you concerned, at all by these delays and indistinct promises? And once the war gets going it just wont do to have the Lord's relinquishing their authority." Shaking his head theatrically, he added with a laugh. "Face it, until our _Lords_ back their promises with actions they remain nothing but dictators!"

"Rio-san!" The Proctor whipped her conductor's wand about, cutting off the spell that carried his voice across the room and through the moonlight mirror, but it returned almost as quickly, one of his supporters no doubt casting from the audience. It was doubtful that the Sylph had even noticed the interruption.

Rio met Mortimer's stare with one of his own, adding triumphantly. "Do you have anything more to say for yourself, Mortimer-san? I'm sure you can tell us how it's important to show a united front, and it is. Or how you've played the excellent general, which you have. But questionably policies can't be ignored simply because of superb execution. You and the other Lords have acted with only the approval of yourselves and the rest of us have been expected to follow without a voice!"

The last sentence ended with a shout that silenced everyone in the room. Charisma could make up for a multitude of failings, so unfortunate that it was someone like Rio that wielded it. Karin was only thankful that the Moonlight Mirror was not more prevalent, or any such talented imbecile could have a chance to sway the public.

The Proctor was trying to regain control of the situation, but between Regin and the shouts from his supporters in the audience, she wasn't meeting with much success. If the Lords had a lick of sense they would have had Mages ready to suppress open dissent. Given their spell repertoire the measures need not be overtly disruptive.

But if such things were at all likely, they were given no chance to unfold.

"I've had enough of this Rio. I didn't come here tonight for a repeat of that shouting match you had with Sigurd." Lady Sakuya had finally deigned to participate, rising fully from her seat before smoothing the front of her elegant robes. The two Sylphs faced off against each other, Sakuya continuing just as Rio opened his mouth to speak. "You're right that tonight was meant as an opportunity for the public to put forward questions. As unelected officials, that is the very least that we can do to give everyone a fair voice. "Her normally serence contenance grew hard. "Instead, you have turned it into a soapbox to scream whatever will get you attention. Instead of interrogating us, I'd like you answer to _my_ question Rio. Just what is it that you stand for?"

The Sylph man stood to meet Sakuya. "I stand for the peoples right to a choice! I thought that you'd appreciate that given all your support for justice and rule of law. The Imps have managed to elect a new Leader, as have the Puca!" His smile returned. "But if it was all an act, I can understand you being reluctant to . . ."

"Two weeks."

Rio fell silent at the two simple words. So did everyone else.

"Say again?"

"Two weeks, earth weeks, fourteen days." Sakuya clarified coolly. "In two weeks time I will ask that every Sylph vote for whoever they please for Leader of Sylvain. It doesn't even have to be a Sylph, they can vote for Rute for all I care." Looking to her fellow Lords and then back to Rio. "No matter what the verdict, I will honor it."

Stupid to risk her authority like that. Karin thought, but if Rio was her competition the idea might almost have merit. Karin frowned as she noticed a slight twitching of her husband's lips.

"What is it?"

The Duke, well versed in dealing with his wife, plucked his monocle from before his eye, buying time to formulate his answer. "I was just thinking, they rather suit each other, wouldn't you say? Lady Sakuya and Lord Mortimer that is. Off of the battlefield, that one isn't indecisive in the least!"

* * *

"What just happened?" Wales whispered softly in Emily's ear.

Shaking her head, the exile Countess of Windsor whispered back. "I'm not quite sure."

On the other side of the Mirror, the Faerie that had been speaking out against the Lords had fallen silent as if he had been stricken dumb. All because of the lone woman who faced him from the opposite side of the stage.

Emily had heard a great deal about Sakuya from Henrietta and Asuna, and what she'd heard had built up a strong impression even before she'd met her for the first time. Tonight had only reinforced that image. The Lady of the Sylphs was everything that Emily had imagined, everything she wished she could be. Strong, beautiful, gracefully in control of herself if not always the events around her, the quintessence of womanhood. Was it any surprise that she commanded the respect of her fellow Faeries?

"But I think," she breathed, "It's about to get good."

Watching the proceedings had been confusing, almost painful, the second act, where everything that was good began to go wrong. Now it was like when the heroine rode in at the climax and revealed the nefarious plot of her evil suitor, or the traitor was revealed by the fallen heroes best friend. Everything that had been benefiting Rio was about to be undone.

"Two weeks?" Rio sounded contemptuous. "You really think you can be ready in just two weeks!"

In the crowd, at least some of Rio's supporters were beginning to talk to each other, certainly there had to be some who didn't believe as strongly as others in their leader. What would they do? Rio sensed it too, Lady Sakuya had masterfully cut his legs out from under him with only a single sentence, and now he was at a loss for how to reply.

"I wouldn't prefer it this way." Sakuya confessed, stepping forward to take to the center of the stage. "The truth is that you're right about one thing. With events as they are, I don't believe that it is wise to be holding an election now. But there won't be any time in the future that will be any better. Two weeks is as long as I believe we can wait."

There were more noises from the crowd, mutters and nervous looks from everyone in view of the mirror. But they were silenced swiftly, Sakuya didn't even have to ask, people _wanted_ to hear what she had to say. If only Rio would figure that out.

"So you admit it!" Rio sounded triumphant as he stepped into the light, confronting Sakuya directly. "You admit that you had not intentions of holding elections until I forced your hand. Starting to feel the pressure now, Sakuya?"

The Sylph woman didn't get angry, didn't shout back. Tilting her head, it was hard to tell from a distance, but it appeared that Sakuya was looking straight into Rio's eyes. "Rio-san, this has nothing to do with you. Everyone came here tonight to be heard, this is the best way I can think of to listen." The sentence was delivered quietly, sincerely, without insult or disrespect. It couldn't have been more devastating. Rio recoiled as if slapped across the face.

Without a second thought for her fellow Sylph on stage, Sakuya turned to the audience. "We are in the most precarious of positions, establishing ourselves here, our alliance with Tristain, the war with Albion and Reconquista. We've survived so far because we have had the best of luck, the best of allies, and the very very best of ourselves." Bowing her head humbly, respectfully, as if to her own Lord, Sakuya finished. "Honestly, every time the topic of elections has come up, it's seemed so trivial, there were a hundred other things that needed to be done, things that were so much more essential. But now, if we are to continue to survive, it will only be because the trust between our Leaders and ourselves remains unbroken."

Sakuya fell silent, and for a moment, everyone held their breath, waiting to see who would speak next. Unfortunately, it appeared to be Rio, red faced, lips working furiously as if trying to regain his mental footing for another attack. "I . . ."

"Two weeks huh?" The child like leader of the Cait Syth wondered out loud. "That's awfully short notice, but I think Freelia can swing it too!"

The Undine representative, Thinker, nodded as he got to his feet. "Orlein will do the same. I know many of my fellow Undines support me, but the fact is that I was still appointed only for the duration of a crisis. I think they should be allowed to make the choice for themselves now that things are under control."

A snort, or maybe it was a sneeze, came from the corpulent Leprechaun Lord. A funny little rolly-polly man, Emily thought. Rute's pomposity was almost endearing in its own odd way. "Well, if the Leprechauns don't want me, best we be done with it. Goubniu will arrange its elections for the same time if that will please everybody."

That left only the Salamander Lord to speak for himself. Lord Mortimer sat, eyes closed, countenance contemplative. The audience must certainly have been holding their breath, the last scene, waiting for the King's judgment that would determine whether the act was a comedy or a tragedy. Emily rung her hands as she watched.

"I . . . continue to have misgivings about risking a change in leadership at this time." Murmurs swept through the crowd as the Salamander Lord rose and stepped out across the stage. "Risking a total change in Leadership at one time risks causing too much confusion, especially having the two largest factions change hands at once." The crowd, the other Lords, Regin, and Rio all watched him, waiting for him to say more, but there was nothing The silence continued, tension almost oozing through the narrow window and into the parlor.

Beside her, Emily caught Wales nodding from the corner of her eye. "A sensible decision I would say." Wales muttered quietly. "It will be hard enough for the Faeries to mesh with their Republican system of governance without having to chance entirely new Lords whenever they please."

Normally, Emily would have thought her Cousin quite right to think that way. The speed with which she and a few others such as the Duke de La Vallier and the Count of Woestte had seized the opportunity presented by the Faeries was highly abnormal. Her brief time in Tristain had already taught her that many of the high Nobility were still cautious in their dealings with the Fae, taking a conservative approach and courting them only gradually and with great care. She did not think many of the Nobility would appreciate having to repeat their efforts every few years.

On the other hand, it mattered just as much, maybe more, what the Faeries thought of their Leaders and what happened right now.

"I don't think . . ." Emily began, but was interrupted as Rio struck again like a feral dog scenting carrion for the taking .

"Why am I not surprised that you would say something like that?" The Sylph asked in a half mocking manner.

Mortimer narrowed his eyes at the offending Faerie. "Hardly at all. I merely think that we cannot neglect pragmatism. That is why I would like to suggest a rota system by which the Faction Leaders may each be selected in staggered intervals."

"And you will of course be at the end of the list." Rio surmised, possibly the most tactful thing he had said all night. "I'd say that speaks volumes."

"In fact, I would place myself somewhere in the Middle. Sakuya-san has already volunteered to go first after all." The Salamander Lord nodded to his Sylph companion. For her part, Sakuya merely wrinkled her nose. "The Gnomes, Imps, and Puca have had the opportunity to select their current Leadership post transition and thus should go last. I don't believe the most populous factions should both hold their elections at the same time. Of course, this is a matter that will require some discussion and should hardly be considered binding. Wouldn't you agree Rio-san?"

Rio cocked his head back to Sakuya. "And what do you have to say about this, my Lady?"

"I . . ." The Sylph woman's composure was almost lost, but stumbling, she regained it, giving a small nod in reply. "I only speak for the Sylph's Rio-san, but if _Lord Mortimer_ would like to discuss this further. I think we can hold another forum at a later date. For now, I believe we've spoiled enough of the evening, and I for one would like to hear questions from someone else for a while." Returning to her seat with as much grace as she could muster, it was clear to everyone involved that the matter was closed for the night.

The calls of approval drowned out the boos and jeers, revealing just how small Regin's base of supporters really were. The scowling Sylph returned to his own seat, Emily noting with approval, with very little of his dignity intact.

Hesitantly, the unfortunate proctor selected the next question from her stack of cards, reading it twice before going on."Previously, civic works were mentioned by Lady Alicia Rue, our next question is about what is being done on this front to organize the cities and make them fully inhabitable."

"I think I should take this one, if nobody else would mind." The hand of the First Lord of Orlein was half raised, the Undine it was attached to smiling sheepishly. "It's just, I've been the head of that committee since we got started."

Emily couldn't help but feel her spirits lift. She'd met thinker only in passing, but he really was a thoroughly lovely fellow. She hadn't been surprised at all to learn that he was already engaged to Miss Yulier and that the two were marrying for love. In that, they were like something out of a storybook and she could only wish them the best.

The Faeries seemed to hold him in almost equal esteem, Noel was only too happy to gesture for him to continue.

"Ah, thank you so much Noel-san. Now to answer the question." Thinker crossed his leg easily as he assumed a conversational posture. "Now obviously, the cities weren't really designed for habitation but rather to be aesthetically please game environments. Even though the phenomena of the Transition has filled in many of the gaps that weren't part of the original game world, there's still a lot that has to be done. I'm sure you've all noticed the new construction and remodeling that has been occurring here in Arrun and those watching by moonlight mirror have seen similar endeavors being made in the other cities."

A question. "You mean the bath houses and waste facilities?"

"Yes, that would be it. One of the first priorities to make the cities inhabitable in the long term is of course sanitation." Thinker explained. "There were a limited number of small facilities to start with as part of ALfheim's game environment, and some homes came equipped with private baths and other luxuries, but a more widespread solution is needed. Given the resources at our disposal, constructing central facilities is more efficient for the time being than retrofitting every home. So it appears that public bath houses are really going to make a comeback, at least in the interim."

"And you mentioned waste facilities?" Another questioner brought up. "Sorry if my question stinks."

A ripple of quite bewildering laughter was allowed to peter out before a mildly mirthful Thinker continued. "Well, it isn't the most pleasant of subjects, but in the short term central facilities are also being arranged to see to the disposal of biological waste, particularly refuse and excrement. As with bathing facilities, it's a better use of our resources to arrange central facilities for now rather than trying to retrofit every home. We've been very fortunate that the sewer systems of most of the cities follow the layout of their streets and we've already begun making plans to link these facilities to the outbound flowing waterways."

Perhaps naturally, it was an Undine that asked the next question. "Excuse me Thinker-san, but wouldn't that by a considerable amount of waste to dispose of. Like, way too much to be safe for the people downstream?"

"Downstream? What about upstream?" A Gnome rumbled loudly. "The rivers also supply our drinking water, and there are towns along the estuaries."

"Very good questions," Thinker admitted, never losing his genial disposition, "And I'm sure you'll be glad to know that we aren't neglecting either. Of course, our first priority is to make sure that waste can be removed from the city, but we also have to consider the water quality coming in. We were very lucky to find a few civic engineers to help us, and while a lot of their expertise is hard to apply here in Halkegenia, after studying the layout of the sewers, we are reviewing their proposals to construct leaching fields and garbage incinerators at the edge of each city."

"As for our drinking water supply, surprisingly, a few aquarium hobbyists have proposed a very interesting idea to build a system of bio filters like what you might find in a large aquarium. These systems are very simple and should be able to filter out the worst of the biological contaminants." Thinker's expression briefly grew grave. "Of course, in the mean time, it is essential that everyone continue to take precautions. Boil water before drinking it, and make sure to place any waste in the designated areas for retrieval by sanitation crews."

"My, this all sounds very well planned out!" An Imp woman admitted when she was selected from the crowds. "But you mentioned that these are the most immediate concerns. What else is there? Longer term that is."

Thinker nodded again. "Yes, that's right. Well, as Alicia-san said earlier, we all hope that we can return home as soon as possible, but in the mean time it would be irresponsible to not start making plans for the near future. Better to have it and not need it after all. So while we've been working on sanitation as a short term goal, measures are being made to layout warehouse districts at the edge of each settlement where grain and preserved meats can be stored for the winter months."

"Excuse me! Excuse me!" One of the Cait's from earlier was hopping up and down as she clutched a clipboard close to her chest. Emily recognized her from earlier and noted out loud that the Lords seemed to be giving her a great deal of attention.

"That's because Netzel-san is a reporter." Asuna explained as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"A reporter?" Henrietta mouthed the word curiously. It sounded rather like a military term to Emily, as in someone who would report to a superior officer. Was she a member of the Faeries Self Defense Forces?

Asuna smiled as she explained the odd term in brief. "Basically, she goes around asking questions and learning about stories and then writes a short account for the newspaper, well, I suppose you would call them broadsheets."

"So a girl who can't keep her mouth shut and her thoughts to herself." Lord Justice Richmond chuckled darkly. "No wonder you Faeries have fools like that man up on stage speaking openly."

Asuna shot the Lord Justice a glare, but Emily sympathized, at least a little, with her friend. She thought it was a thoroughly wonderful idea that there were people who could be employed just learning about the happenings elsewhere and reporting them back to everyone rather than just posting what the King or Lords wanted said. Emily frowned. Maybe if Albion had done such things, the dissatisfaction that had spurred Cromwell to power could have been prevented.

"I'd like to voice a question on behalf of the Daily ALfheim. In regards to food reserves, is this expected to be a problem. Sixty Thousand people is a lot of extra mouths to feed on short notice!" The girl waited, an ear cocked attentively and a pencil held to her writing surface.

Thinker smiled reassuringly. "I can say with confidence that there will be enough food to go around this winter. Tristain has had good harvests for several years in a row and magical means of food preservation ensures that even if there is a poor harvest this year, there will still be enough for everybody. And of course we've also been working closely with our allies in the Tristanian government, extra Earth and Water mages are being employed to ensure that this years harvest will not be poor."

"Well that's a relief!" Netzel laughed as she finished taking down her notes. "Thanks for that bit, Thinker-san."

"Baths and clean streets are come first and only then do they worry about food?" Count Woestte could hardly seem to believe it. "Do you Fae really have your priorities in order?" The question was directed to Asuna who almost seemed surprised.

"It's about more than just baths and clean streets Lord Woestte." The Maeve Noblewoman answered back.

"I do believe I recall something to this effect." Cardinal Mazarin agreed. "Lady Sakuya introduced me to one of their physicians, a fascinating young man, he explained the term to me as 'Germ Theory' I believe?"

"Un." Asuna nodded, allowing her daughter to settle into her lap so that she could watch and listen to the exchange. "Clean drinking water and proper waste disposal are the best ways to keep disease down. Panam-sensei told me that Water mages actually understand a little about this, but you couldn't really identify what was making people sick, just that it was spread by drinking untreated water."

"Mages can't conjure water that is pure enough to drink, and boiling it all of the time is too much effort for most commoners or petty mages to bother." Mazarin admitted. "If a clean stream of spring isn't available, it's easier to simply drink wine or beer."

"That's what everyone tells me." Asuna agreed. "But even if it's weak alcohol, drinking it all the time isn't healthy either. On our world, people developed ways to purify water without using magic. That way, we can use it to rinse and clean wounds and give it even to children like Yui-chan without worrying about them getting sick."

"And then isolating your sewage underground and ridding yourself of your refuse by incineration, I suppose that Doctor Shoichi meant this to completely destroy the refuge of these pathogens?" Mazarin surmised with a look of interest. "Such measures are often taken to burn out the plague."

"That's exactly right." Asuna seemed pleased that he understood. "It's also why we have a different method of bathing to prevent dirt and bacteria from spreading."

Count Woestte snorted. "All of this talk about trash. It seems like entirely too much effort"

"Oh, I think you would be surprised." Mazarin answered slowly, resting a cheek against one hand. "If Doctor Shoichi is to be believed, thorough execution of these measures can reduce premature deaths due to disease by almost ninety eight out of every one hundred. On top of that, such a reduction would make the remaining cases more manageable by physicians so even those who do fall sick would be likelier to survive. Imagine how much more productive your work force would be, Lord Woestte."

"And how much more effective our soldiers and sailors can be if they are kept healthier than our enemies." Wales added almost as an afterthought. "Lord Mortimer has been suggesting some ingenious additions to the supply companies to cut down on illness while our forces are on the march."

"I . . ." The Count looked like he was about to say something before his eyes widened as if realizing the truth in Mazarin's words. He begun to mutter quickly to himself as he settled back into his seat, no doubt thinking how he should approach Lord Rute or Thinker.

The matter settled the next question had been asked. A Salamander wanted to know about the people who were managing the various programs put in place by the Faerie Lords and how they were being selected.

"We really wish we had a list of exactly what everyone did in real life." Lady Alicia answered the question this time. "And that we knew for sure that nobody is telling fibs or making themselves sound more important. But honestly, we've just had to pick people who seemed knowledgeable and had proven reliable since the transition." The Cat-like girl exchanged a nod across the stage with Lady Sakuya.

"We try to put exhibited talent to good use first before looking to claims of past accomplishments. Of course, there are obviously exceptions to that rule." Sakuya admitted. "But it is important to remember that this is in many ways a fresh start for everyone here, even those with useful skills are having to learn new things to apply them in Halkegenia. If you think you have a skill or talent that can be put to good use, please, do not hesitate to come forward."

The next hand to come up was deep inside the territory of the lobby held by Rio's supporters, an Imp who looked on impatiently until a reluctant Noel finally pointed her conductors wand at him.

"While we're on the topic of assigning people with skills, I want to know about the ongoing manhunt for that Ganker Rip Jack who committed all of those murders."

The mood in the Lobby, which had been on a steady upswing, suddenly plummeted once more. Even in the warmth of the Palace parlor, Asuna and Yui looked anxious. And why wouldn't they be with a killer on the loose in their home.?

"Ganker?" Emily whispered. Caramella had explained the term to her once, a . . . a person who specialized in murder within the illusion games. Such people were apparently most frustrating to deal with even when it was all in jest. She'd naturally heard about the murders that had stricken in Arrun and Freelia, so now the Faeries knew the name of the culprit and he was one of these people.

"For the time being a manhunt is being organized and likenesses are being spread of Rip Jack to all of the cities and nearby Tristanian settlements." Mortimer answered the question. "Our objective is now to keep Rip Jack to occupied to even think of committing another murder while we run him to ground."

"Yeah great, fat lot of good that did the victims before now." The Imp replied. "Last I heard a real police officer was taken off the case and a few rookie kids took his place. That true?"

"I would be interested where you learned that rumor." Even through the mirror, Emily swore that she saw Mortimer's eye twitch. "And just what you think it means."

"I don't know what it means." The Imp said. "But I do know that maybe if you hadn't done that, Rip Jack would have been caught by now."

"Vakarian-san . . ." Mortimer paused as he composed his answer "Vakarian-san stepped down of his own initiative because it was not believed his expertise could meaningfully add to the case and was better used elsewhere."

"So you took off a cop and put in a couple of kids?" The imp pushed for an answer. "How whack is that?"

Noel frowned down at the imp from her vantage on the stage. "Now listen up, we're not going to have any further interruptions unless . . ." Mortimer raised a hand to quiet her.

"No, this should be addressed now." Mortimer declared with marvelous restraint. Next to Lady Sakuya, Mortimer always seemed so composed, coldly composed, but ready for anything. The perfect General the way that Sakuya was the perfect Noblewoman. "It is true that all investigators are police officers, but not all police officers are investigators. Nor are any modern police officers trained to investigate a murder involving people who can fly, are preternaturally skilled, and can wield magic. It was thus decided to include as broad a skill set and as many approaches as possible. Now that Rip Jack has been discovered, Vakarian-san chose to take leave of the investigation because it has moved away from his area of expertise and he can better contribute elsewhere. I assure you that at every step, every measure has been taken to bring the killer to justice."

"_Every _step?" This time, Emily was sure that Mortimer's eye really had twitched. While the Imp had remained silent, the man he supported had not.

"Rio-san," Noel breathed, "With all due respect, if you cause another derail I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

The Sylph smiled with that same infuriatingly undeserved confidence as he sighted in on Mortimer on last time. "I understand completely Noel-san, but I do have just one question about this topic that I would like to have answered. And I think everyone else will want to hear it too."

Mortimer narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but nodded for Rio to continue nonetheless.

"So you say you've done everything you can to stop Rip Jack?"

"Yes, everything. We have and continue to take every measure we can."

Rio seemed pleased with himself. Emily had a sinking feeling that the Salamander Lord had just walked himself into a trap. "So I did a little digging on our killer and I found that he was famous for performing critical decaps as part of his routine. I also found out that he seems to have continued this traditions be nearly cutting through the neck's of his victims. So I'm very curious how the brilliant mind who planned operation Dunkirk managed to not have even an inkling of suspicion as the Sylph and Cait Syth bodies started to pile up, killed someone using a style you had to be familiar with. I mean, Rip Jack was your pet assassin, right?"

For the first time, Mortimer's expression betrayed a hint of emotion, the realization that he'd just made a mistake, and a look of genuine surprise. And then the roar of the crowd grew so loud that the Puca amplifying the Moonlight Mirror had to cut off his spell.

"What just happened?" Emily wondered.

"I don't know." Wales said. "But I think things just became very bad for Lord Mortimer."


	21. The Plot Half Revealed

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 7 - Part 4

Sakuya would have liked to have used the word disaster to describe what had happened. It would have so neatly encapsulated everything so that she wouldn't have to suffer describing it in greater detail. But the truth was, calling it a disaster would have been unfair to disasters. This had been a complete and unmitigated catastrophe. All that was left was to count the bodies and tally the insurance claims.

Between Rio making a fool of himself and a mockery of every effort to lead the evening back towards fruitful discussion, and Mortimer's mishandling of a non-problem that he'd created entirely on his own, it would be miracle if their collective credibility didn't take a nose dive. She could just see the headlines of the Daily ALfheim. 'Lords and Ladies Open Mouth, Insert Foot!' Netzel had been muttering something to that effect as Sakuya was leaving the stage.

Where had Rio even learned about Rip Jack's connection to Mortimer? She was fairly sure none of her own people were Rio supporters. Was it just a lucky find, or something more? Another lead for Argo and Kirito to follow up on.

"I suppose I should have been more forceful when I presented my case." The Puca following her from the Lobby whispered apologetically. Behind them, the background roar of the audience was fast fading. Alicia and Thinker had made the sacrifice and stayed behind to answer questions from the 'Press' to buy everyone else time to get away without being swamped. It seemed to be working given the nearly abandoned hallway ahead of them. "I'm very sorry Lady Sakuya, I thought I'd be able to handle Rio-san by myself, but I didn't prepare very well after all . . ."

Sakuya sighed to herself, no, she was the only one who should be beating herself up here. She had naively expected a civil discussion and hadn't been prepared when Noel wasn't able to keep Rio in check. But she should have known, really, all people like Rio ever wanted was attention and that was easy to come by so long as you didn't mind the type. "Don't be so hard on yourself." She advised with as much gentleness and patience as she could muster. At the moment, she was finding both to be in short supply.

The anxiety of presenting herself to thousands of people, the frustration, and stress of holding her composure when she just wanted to scream and shout. At that moment, Sakuya felt like her mind was made of jagged metal and broken glass.

"Rio is the one who should be apologizing." She explained. "But the truth is that it's easier to make a scene then it is to maintain your dignity."

"I . . . see . . ." Regin answered slowly, causing Sakuya to tilt her head towards the scholarly Puca. She felt a sense of pity welling up. After seeing the eloquence of his writing, it was really a shame that he _wasn't_ as decisive a speaker. Maybe, with time he'd be able to acquire the knack for it. It hadn't come easy for her either at first. Regin smiled wanly. "Still, I'm rather disappointed. I'd been hoping for an opportunity to have a real discussion with you and the other Lords, Sakuya-san. It would have been a once in a lifetime opportunity."

Sakuya tried hard not to laugh, Regin was sounding like some sort of admirer, and really he was much too sweet to embarrass him like that. "Really? I think you might be expecting a bit too much from us. From me in particular." She admitted once they were safely out of earshot and flanked once more by Sylph guards. This hallway would lead to an elevated back entrance from which Sakuya and the other Lords could depart without having to wait for the crowds to disperse. At the moment, she couldn't have been more thankful for that.

"I . . . wouldn't say that at all." Regin insisted with a small stutter. "We're making history after all. In fact, for everything I've said, I really do think we are very fortunate to have you, Sakuya-san."

Making history? It had barely crossed her mind before now. Reading about it in books and manuscripts was one thing, living it was something else entirely. Really, she'd just been doing her best to make their time here safer and more bearable. But in doing so, she was defining that time and the impression they would leave. So yes, she was making history. The question was whose?

Alicia admitting aloud what they all feared had resonated deeply with something inside of her. Would the Faeries be some footnote in Halkegenia's history, strange foreigners that appeared for a time and then returned home? Or, if the worst happened, would her own children read about her in history books while taking lessons alongside the sons and daughters of Noblemen? And what legacy would she leave behind?

No, it was much too ridiculous, Sakuya thought, she was really nothing special. She'd just been in the right place at the right time, and bluffed in the right ways. Maybe her fellow Faeries would remember her, but she'd be a footnote to everyone else on the Continent, and that almost came as a relief. "I suppose you shouldn't let Rute hear that." She said while trying to hold back a bit of tired laughter. "He's insufferable enough as it is."

"Too true, I suppose." Regin shook his head. "Still, a wasted opportunity."

Thinking to herself, Sakuya came to a decision. "Maybe not. I've been invited to a formal engagement in Tristania at the end of the week, a Royal Gala being held in commemoration of the victories at Newcastle and York. I promised Alicia I would make a little time for myself and I'm expected to attend with an escort. If you would like, it might be an opportunity to pick up where Rio cut us off."

Regin's eyes widened, the slender Puca half bowed. "I would be honored, Sakuya-san!"

Well, at least something good would come of this night. "Sakuya!" A short, sharp, and cold voice echoed at her back. A pity it couldn't last.

Sakuya turned towards the voice, wondering whether she would manage to reign her temper in or simply deliver a hay-maker to the approaching Salamander. "Mortimer." She bit off.

The Salamander Lord, possibly soon to be _former_ Salamander Lord had his own retinue in tow, his Guard Captain and two of his Knights close on his heels. For someone who had at best, just suffered a severe blow to his reputation, Mortimer looked remarkably in control of himself.

It had taken the better part of five minutes to get everyone to quiet down enough for Mortimer to explain himself after Rio's revelation. In the end, people had listened, but nobody had quite believed him, nobody that wasn't a Salamander or a Spriggan anyways. Trying to hide an irrelevant connection, even for a day had done more for Rio's accusations than all the shouting the little idiot could do in a month.

If she'd been feeling more generous, Sakuya would almost have admitted that she admired the way that Mortimer had managed to land on his feet after such an upset. Although the fact that he had brought this solely on himself didn't leave her with much sympathy. So much for refraining from damaging the reputation of the Salamanders.

"Sakuya, I need a moment of your time, away from . . ."

Anger won the battle with restraint as Sakuya snapped. "So now you want to speak to me in private." Finally a laugh, short and bitter. "A little late for that, wouldn't you say?"

Sighing. "Sakuya, I need you to listen." Mortimer said slowly. "It is . . ."

"No, I need you to listen, Mortimer." Sakuya came to stand in front of the Salamander Lord, facing him down. For the first time, she realized that he was actually shorter than her. "You _knew _about Rip Jack and decided to cover your own ass first. Now you have to own the consequences for yourself and your entire Faction." It was enough to get Mortimer to recoil in surprise. "Honestly _Mort_." Sakuya imitated Morgiana's favorite mode of address. "You might be some sort of tactical genius. But you've dug all of us in deep with this one and done a lot of damage that I don't know if I can _fix_."

The Tristanian's weren't likely to be too happy with this revelation, and the reputation of the Lords among the Landed nobility was as important as having the support of their own people. Didn't Mortimer understand that?

Mortimer seemed ready to make a retort, lips parting before closing again. He shook his head slowly. "I believe we should give time for tempers to cool." He said carefully.

Damn right. Sakuya thought.

"Tomorrow then." Mortimer glanced suspiciously at Regin. The soft faced Puca's features had taken on a harder set when Mortimer had approached and he was now as on edge as Sakuya. "Come early to the Public Works meeting." Then he added something very surprising. "Please."

It was so out of character that Sakuya at first thought that she had misheard. "Is that a hint of humility?" Then again, he could only benefit from that. Still, if she could, Sakuya would have liked nothing more than to wash her hands of Mortimer and hope the next Lord of Gaddan would be a better fit for the job. But she couldn't do that, as much as she wanted to, because it would mean condemning the eight thousand one hundred and sixty nine other Salamanders as well. Sakuya sighed tiredly, "Fine, tomorrow morning."

They stared each other down for a moment longer, Sakuya wondered just what was going on behind that poker face. Then, Ephi intervened, her Guard Captain stepping between them. "Lady Sakuya, you should hurry if you want to avoid the crowds, this way."

One of Ephi's hands brushed against Mortimer's wrist and the Salamander let out a small hiss of surprise, pulling the hand back as if stung. Sakuya could see a thin trickle of blood originating between the thumb and index finger. Even though they were completely safe and surrounded by a cordon of the city Watch, Mortimer's Guards all reached for their swords, ready to draw at the slightest hint of a threat.

"Ah, my apologies Lord Mortimer!" Ephi said quickly.

Ephi tapped at a silver band on his middle finger. It was small enough to go almost unnoticed but would certainly hurt if Ephie decided to strike with a closed hand. Sakuya had never seen ring type item like it before, but then again, ALfheim had been known for its sheer variety of weapons and equipment so it could be any number of rare drops.

"It's fine." Mortimer waved to his guards with his good hand while sucking at the small cut. "I'll be waiting tomorrow at your offices Sakuya-san."

"I'll be dreading it." Sakuya answered, letting herself be ushered off along with Regin. The last she saw of Mortimer was the Salamander Lord conversing with his Guard Commander before they disappeared down the curve of the hall. Now if only Mortimer was the worst she had to contest with tonight, but that wasn't to be.

"I thought you said there wouldn't be anyone waiting here?" Sakuya asked Ephi as they reached the unassuming door, the back entrance to the ground floor of Arrun Tower that was presently surrounded by a small crowd of Faeries of every Race. And at their head was Rio. She could say this much, his agility and evasion abilities were top notch to have gotten here first.

Sakuya groaned quietly to herself. Just when she thought she would get a respite. "What is he doing here?" Regin asked her.

"The interview didn't go his way." Even if he'd done a lot of damage, Rio had only managed to reassert that he was a complete jackass in front of the entire population of Arrun. Which meant he was probably looking to shore up his Loyal Cult of personality. She explained this briefly to Regin who nodded severely in understand. "He's bound to not pull any punches now. We can just avoid him if you like." Sakuya suggested.

"No. It's fine, we'll just have to punch through and endure it, right?" The Puca smiled reassuringly. Well, if he was up for it, Sakuya certainly couldn't say now.

"Sakuya-san, interesting coincidence to meet you here." Rio smiled without a hint of it reaching his eyes. Just like Sigurd, he wasn't a man who took well to realizing he'd been made a fool of. And just like Sigurd, in private, there was no point in showing him the courtesy he was wholly undeserving of.

"Good evening Rio-san." Sakuya said, careful not to break her stride or betray her exhaustion. "Haven't you done enough damage to your reputation for one night?"

"Only once I've brought you all out into the light where you belong." Rio replied. The jeers from his posse growing Louder as Sakuya brushed by.

Sakuya's lips twitched. "You mean down in the mud at your level? I think I'd rather not."

Rio laughed hollowly. "You see, that's what I love about talking to you like this. Down off the stage, people get to see what a bitch you really are."

"Is that before or after they figure out that you're a monumental prick?" Sakuya asked. "Just what are you hoping to accomplish Rio-san? You do realize that even if you could anything to my reputation the alternative to me is _not_ you." In fact she was confident that half of Rio's small base of supporters hated him as much as they hated the standing Lords.

"Maybe not your reputation." Rio agreed. "But I'd say I put a pretty good dent in Mortimer's tonight. Just a little preview while I dig up the rest of your dirty Laundry." Hoots of approval rose up from the small crowd. They were past them now, but Rio was still following, trying to get in his parting shots before Sakuya and her retinue took to the night sky. "Actually, it was touching the way you kept coming to his rescue, I mean considering how much you two don't seem to get along, too bad that attack dog doesn't have the brains to figure it out." Rio stopped as his cashew sized brain switched gears to another insult. "Or maybe I've got it wrong. Tell me, does he scratch that itch for you?"

This was a new record, Sakuya thought, normally it would take Rio a couple of minutes to hit rock bottom. But right now he was appealing to the most antisocial and immature of his supporters, so she shouldn't have been surprised. What she would have done for a recording Crystal or even a Nav Pixie right now.

"Rio-san, maybe that's enough for tonight." Regin said softly. "This has been a very long day for everyone, and . . ."

"Oh, Regin, I didn't see you there." Rio put hands on hips as he bared down on the smaller Puca. "I'm actually impressed by how fast you sold out. Didn't even make it one day before she had you under her thumb."

Regin paled, taking a step back from the more imposing Sylph. "I don't . . . I don't know what you're talking about." The Puca said, voice tense as he tried to keep his calm. Sakuya could see his fists balling up at his sides. She ordered her guards to a halt.

"Eh, I was just thinking of Old Sigurd you see. After Sakuya beat him in the Elections she gave him a consolation prize as Leader of the Sylph Military. Interesting to see that now you're the one suckling her tits."

Sakuya knew she could never admit it. For one thing, it would have ruined her image as the Serene Lady of the Sylphs, for another the resulting scene had taken hours to clear up and resulted in quite a bit of heated argument after the fact. But for all that, watching the small Puca's fist crashing into Rio's smug face had been the best thing she'd seen in weeks.

* * *

Standing quietly along the river front, where the drainage channels from the Noble District returned to the natural waterway, Lieutenant Agnes of Her Majesties Royal Musketeers, found herself contemplating her own faith.

In private, Agnes would admit that she didn't think much of God or the Founder above. They'd forsaken her and everything that she loved a long time ago, and maybe she preferred it that way. It had stopped her from wasting time with prayers or false hope. It had made her turn to the strength within herself rather than leaning on the sympathy of others. And she was better off for it.

But there were times, such as now, that some help from the heavens might have been appreciated.

"That makes the the second in less than a week." Agnes grimaced as she watched the healers attending to the fallen Nobleman, pulling his body from the riverside and desperately trying to knit him back together, draw back the life that had so obviously and completely fled his body.

Why they even bothered was beyond her comprehension, he was long past helping. But that was the way of most Nobles, so used to the powers of magic and wealth, they were unable or unwilling to accept that no amount of mage craft or money could fix some things.

Agnes simply accepted and moved on. Her only concern was _why_ he was dead. The signet ring found on his person marked him as a member of the Royal Guards. Given the shortage of trustworthy people in the Crown's service, he had no doubt been entrusted with a mission at least as important as her own prior to his demise. But what that mission was, and how he had been carrying it out, was as much a secret to her as hers would have been to him.

'Whatever it was, you must have been getting close for them to kill you like this.' She thought, allowing herself a hint of tender mercy.

The Royal Guards were some of the few Nobles that she could respect alongside the Crown, their gallantry and pride in service marking them out from most of their decadent and corrupt breed. It was a quality she sought to emulate, though not for the same reasons. They served to secure their status, no more or less, she had her own goals.

"L-Lieutenant." The voice sounded weak and shaken.

"Natalia." Agnes turned to her subordinate, a dark haired woman, barely more than a girl, who had recently joined the Royal Musketeers.

Natalia met her superior's eyes, face pale. The man dead on the ground had been a formidable triangle of water, now he was corpse no different from any other, killed in the middle of Tristania with nary a person the wiser and no sign of magic. To Natalia, a girl of common birth who had lived her life believing nobles were invincible, his killer must have seemed preternatural.

The third daughter of a lettered Commoner, a clerk at the palace, she was yet to be familiarized with the brutality of battle. And although Agnes did not expect her subordinates to match her resolve and composure, breaking down at the sight of death was unacceptable. This would just have to serve as her induction. Brutal, but necessary to harden her so that she would not falter in combat.

"Yes sir?" The girl stood, back straighter, her trembling slowly fading as she tried very hard not to look past Agnes at the body of Sir Heinrick.

"Natalia, I want you to return to the Palace and report everything to our superiors." She nodded to the body that was now being laid out on a stretcher. "Tell them that I would like to know just what Sir Heinrick was investigating prior to his demise." Knowing who would have reason to kill him was bound to narrow the suspects.

"Yes Sir." Natalia saluted and then frowned. "Sir?"

"Speak." Agnes instructed, she had no patience for indecision. The members of the firearms Squadron couldn't afford hesitation.

"Forgive my saying this." Natalia said timidly. "But I don't think the Lord Justice will honor an inquiry like that."

"That is why you go past him and report directly to Sir Hammond of the Manticore Knights." Now there was a dependable Nobleman. The Manticore Captain cared little for distinctions like title, only the results mattered. And if Agnes could deliver on her present assignment, she was certain she would be allowed to tackle this next.

"Yes Sir!" Natalia said more resolutely, turning to depart before Agnes called for her to stop once more.

"Is there something else?" Natalia asked, adjusting the strap of the musket she carried hidden beneath her cloak. In the crowded streets of the Capital, nobody would mind the sight of a hooded hunchback trying to mask their deformity.

Agnes chose her next words carefully. "Natalia, do not forget that an animal becomes most dangerous when it knows it is trapped. These murders are just proof that we are closing in on the heart of Reconquista's conspirators. Else they would never risk drawing attention like this." The Lieutenant of the Musketeers nodded confidently. "Make sure that everyone hears that, and knows to remain at their most vigilant."

Her word's giving the girl new resolve, Natalia nodded once more in affirmation before pushing through the gathering onlookers and vanishing back onto the streets, intent on completing her assignment as instructed. Novice or not, Agnes had selected her and the other applicants carefully. Natalia knew her duty as well as any other soldier in service to the Crown. By the end of the night, the rest of the firearms squadron would be aware of what had happened and be placed on high alert.

For that matter, she'd best warn the young Valliere and her Faerie escort. The danger should they be discovered, or even suspected, was becoming more certain with every moment.

Without a word to the other Guards and Watchmen, Agnes set off into the night, pulling her cloak up to mask herself and quickly turning into a back alley. Mages might prefer flight or secret passages, but a good knowledge of the city streets often worked just as well and was a good deal leas conspicuous. Along her way, a few shady characters eyed her, appraising whether she was worth stopping before thinking better of it.

It was the smile, feral, hateful. It would have frightened off an elf had one of the great enem been unlucky enough to see it. Despite this latest setback, despite the danger, Agnes had meant what she had told Natalia. This was a sign that their efforts were taking their toll. The conspirators had finally sensed that they were cornered and were acting rashly. All that mattered now was that Tristain be ready for whatever last gambit they had in mind.

Agnes was eager to hear of it, to stop it. But most of all, she was eager to see the looks on the faces of the Nobles who thought they could play with the fate of Kingdoms to sate their own selfish whims. Slaughtering commoners like animals. No, even killing their fellow Noblemen!

The look of surprise on Sir Heinrick's dead face flashed past her mind's eye, that look of bewildered shock as he realized he was dead, throat torn brutally open as if by a massive knife or the jaws of a cruel beast. She would make sure the Conspirators would wear that same look when she came for them.

* * *

Louise was revolted by the man before her, his appearance, his bearing, the tasteless cologne. Her very first impression of de'Martou would have been disgust, even if she hadn't known of his treacherous dealings. This was Terrance de'Martou, a conspirator for the cause of the Reconquistadors? She'd seen the sketches and impressions of the man prepared for her by Agnes, but they didn't do him justice. The past days had led her to expect so very much more than this.

"You. Serving girl!" The man grunted like a pig. "Didn't you hear me a moment ago? Are you perhaps deaf!"

"I . . ." This man. "That is to say . . ." This man! Something clicked within her at that moment, a self consciousness that hadn't been there before. Terrance de'Martou was the very lowest form of scum, both in deed and in person. But it wasn't her right to ring his neck. Agnes, and Botan, both had much better claims to that honor. So she held her tongue, and her hands, and forced a smile that would have brought any decent man to his knees.

"This way, my Master." She offered, remembering to add the sweet trill to the end that KoKo had suggested.

Louise couldn't fail but notice the way that the normally mirthful evening attitude had grown subdued around her as the other clients noticed the arrival of the latest _'Guest'_. That alone was worrying. Scarron liked to keep the shop a happy place and discouraged any sort of grudge among both the girls and the clientele. The fact that he had failed to suppress the obvious distaste for de'Martou did not bode well.

Ignorant of the ire directed at him, de'Martou snorted. "That's more like it! And I heard old Scarron found himself a Faerie wench to work her wiles here as well." An exaggerated nod of the head was sent in the direction of KoKo who had just noticed events near the front of the shop. "This should be good. Tell her to come along as well."

Like hell! Louise thought. If this . . . this pig! Thought that she would let him lay one hand on KoKo or herself . . . No, calm, remain calm, there was nothing he could do that she could not make his life hell for later. That thought was immensely cathartic as she held her gracious smile.

The slick haired Nobleman walking beside the Tax Collector leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Mister de'Martou, I don't believe that is . . ."

"Nonsense!" The corpulent man said with the wave of one fat hand. "I'll hardly miss a chance to see this. A Faerie in her proper place I'd say, none of this treating them like real Nobles, eh Janglers?"

The taller Nobleman rubbed tiredly at the bridge of his nose. "I suppose it is so." He said with a note of distaste.

"I am sorry, Master." Louise had to will herself with all of her might not to scream at the man. "But Miss KoKo is already fully occupied with her own guests. That is the rule of this establishment." Carefully taking up the hem of her skirt, she curtsied. "I'm afraid you'll have to make do with me tonight." And she'd do everything she could to keep them away from KoKo!

Even before the indignant look from de'Martou had time to register, Louise felt a powerful hand closing on her arm. It was Scarron, arrived at last sans his normal smile. Instead, the proprietor of the Charming Faeries Inn had his lips pursed and his eyes set on de'Martou. "Oh, Mademoiselle!"

"Just a moment of your time _Mein Petite Louise_." Scarron said genially for the sake of the guests before pulling her back from de'Martou, leaning close to whisper in her ear. It occurred to Louise that there might be another hurdle to observing de'Martou. What if Scarron decided to throw the man out! Thankfully, or unfortunately, the Inn Keeper quickly put her fears to rest.

"Louise, I need you and KoKo to devote yourselves to this man for the rest of the night." Scarron said, voice imploring and eyes pleading. It seemed he was not above begging if need be.

"Well that's okay," Louise said relieved, "I planned to . . . wait w-what?!" Had she just misheard?

"Scarron?" de'Martou was attempting, badly, to listen in on the conversation being had between Scarron and Louise. "Is there a problem?"

Turning quickly, Scarron smiled back. "Not at all Monsieur de'Martou, not at all! I'm just instructing our new girl in how you like to enjoy your evening." This seemed to placate de'Martou who looked Louise over in a way that made her skin crawl. She felt asi Scarron had some how betrayed her even though this was exactly what she'd thought she wanted wanted. "Gimi mein Petite! See these gentleman to their seats. Mister de'Martous favorite spot should be open I do believe."

"Mister Scar . . . Mademoiselle." Louise whispered back. "It's fine, I don't mind doing it. But isn't Mister de'Martou a _'Guest?'_ she said with the added emphasis that implied a customer who was more trouble than they were worth.

Scarron looked shame faced. "Listen closely Louise, Monsieur de'Martou is a Royal Tax Collector and must not be crossed. He could have this entire establishment shut down and my girls out on the street in under an hour."

What! But the Tax Offices were held accountable directly to the Crown. A Tax Officer couldn't just do as they pleased without Crown permission . . . Except de'Martou had been doing just that, flaunting the law all the while feeding tax money into Reconquista's coffers. Men like him existed, and they brought shame on the title of 'Noble'.

"Please Louise, I'll match your tips for the night if you and KoKo will just entertain him." Scarron held a hand to his chest, swearing before God and Founder.

At least she didn't have to fake the exacerbated sigh, or the resigned shake of the head as she accepted. Hopefully such an unpleasant person would be less suspicious if she wasn't able to completely mask her distaste. After all, he must be used to it.

"That's the guy?" KoKo asked, the Cait Syth coming up beside Louise.

"That's him." Louise agreed.

"Looks like a pig ready for roasting." The Cait's nostrils flared as she caught a whiff of his passing on the air. "And he smells like my trash bin on gardening day. You ready for this?"

Louise gave a snorting laugh. What was that term that the Salamander Klein had used once? "I was born ready." Such a nonsensical turn of phrase, but it felt fitting. "What about you?"

"I'll deal with it." KoKo assured her, accepting a bottle of wine from Jessica who had retrieved one of the shop's best vintages for their very special _'Guest'_.

"Good luck, both of you." Jessica said before retreating back to the bar to watch along with a noticeably un-Mademoiselle-like Scarron.

Practice from the past days kicked in, Louise following at KoKo side, cradling a basket of fresh baked bread and a small cask of butter while KoKo presented the wine bottle to both Noblemen. The guards flanking the Table leaned a little closer as KoKo pored for de'Martou and the strange Nobleman with him.

"Now, a little closer girl, no not you, the one with the ears!" de'Martou waved Louise aside so that he could get a better look at KoKo.

Merely smiling, the Cait tilted her head. "How may I be of service, my Master?"

de'Martou held a suspicious look for a moment, studying KoKo's smile, her figure, her ears and tail. Had he noticed the way that the smile was forced? Did he find it suspicious that a serving woman was so lithe and muscular? Then he broke into harsh laughter.

"I think I rather see the appeal of the cat ones, Janglers. You know they say all of the Fae were commoners in their homeland, now thinking that they're our equals because they have a little magic to play with. These ones at least haven't forgotten that they're just one step above beasts." One pudgy hand snapped out like a frog's tongue, grabbing a roll out of the basket in Louise's hands and tearing into it. "Maybe once the Kingdom's regained its senses I shall keep one as a pet."

KoKo's smile widened to show small, white, very sharp teeth.

"Yes . . . A pet . . ." Janglers gave a heartless chuckle, eyes all the while remaining fixed on KoKo. At last, he shook his head, muttering something about 'Faerie whores' under his breath. "Once you're family has been properly returned to its rightful standing, of course."

"Oh, I think there's every chance of that." de'Martou agreed, grabbing hold of Louise by the waist and pulling her into his lap. Through the rough fabric of his blouse, she could actually feel the hot flesh and sweat coating his arm. She wanted to retch up her lunch. De'Martou grabbed hold of the wine bottle, neglecting his glass, and held it high in the air. "To the line of de'Martou! May father and grandfather smile upon me!" None of the other patrons spared him a second glance, not that he noticed or cared. "Come, drink with me Janglers! Tonight we celebrate our shared good fortunes."

Taking up his glass, de'Martou drank deeply, Janglers sipping at a more restrained pace. KoKo returned promptly with food, sausage links and lentil soup, and a second bottle of wine for when the first was exhausted before taking her place with admirable restraint on the opposite side of their _'Guest'._ "Now then." de'Martou breathed out, the scent of alcohol heavy on his breath. "Eat up Janglers, and let us speak of tonight's business."

As if set off by the words, KoKo began to nuzzle de'Martou's shoulder, acting every bit the affection starved kitten. What had gotten into her? Oh right! Louise caught herself listening intently, and making no effort to hide it. That wouldn't do at all, especially seeing as Janglers, the more suspicious of the two men and no doubt the person they ought pay the most attention to, was certainly the most on guard. So as much as she hated it, Louise followed KoKo's example, smiling and tending to de'Martou's every need.

But it was still hard to think that way as she was breathed on by rancid breath, and as KoKo strangled a small hiss, de'Martou stroking the base of her tail roughly with his free hand. The Cait's eyes had dilated, for a moment, fangs had been barred. A silent plea had been all that Louise could offer to return KoKo to her senses. Thankfully, it had worked, the Cait Syth enduring the humiliation until de'Martou grew bored.

Every act from poring his wine to wiping food from his cheek felt like a betrayal of the dignity Luise had been raised to uphold, but she reminded herself that KoKo was bearing this along side her, and they were both doing it for a very good reason. Their revenge would be seeing de'Martou and his fellow conspirators hauled off to the gallows, and the stolen Pixies safe once more. That thought bolster her flagging resolve as at last they reached what they had been waiting for.

"Preparations are almost completed." Janglers said as he buttered a piece of bread, eating in small bites until the roll vanished without even a crumb to mark its passing. "Again, I would like to thank you for the use of your family home. The quality of your cellars are truly astounding."

"Yes, you can thank grandfather for that." de'Martou answered back, preening over the achievements of his betters as if they somehow increased his own worth. "After Sew was razed, plenty of the old foundations and channels were left. Quite the catacombs I should say, and ah, perfect for my side business."

"As well as ours." Janglers agreed, a sausage next being cut into neat pieces and vanishing into his mouth in a steady rhythm, he hardly even seemed to chew as the food before him began to diminish, vanishing at a startling rate. At the same time, the level of his wine glass barely fell by a thumb span. "In any case, it has proven the perfect place for our business. Sadly, things will be concluding themselves at the end of this week. For better or worse I should think."

"For better we should hope!" de'Martou grunted.

Janglers fixed de'Martou with a thin lipped look, eyes hooded, he regarded de'Martou's plate until the fat Nobleman realized what it was that he wanted. He scowled and then reluctantly surrendered what was left of his own meal to be quickly and neatly devoured by the rail thin Noble.

"Monsieur de'Martou, let me assure that in this sort business, things are bound to go wrong. We must simply play as the coins fall." Watching him from the corner of her eye, Louise shivered as she realized what Jangler's reminded her of. A cold blooded lizard, not like Dragons or Salamanders, but like the small ones from the borders of the desert, all skin and bones and start and stop motion, and a lifeless look in his eye as if wondering whether de'Martou might make a good meal in and of himself.

'This business? What business?!' Louise wanted to shout her questions to the room. They'd gone to all of this trouble, and now they were going to be foiled because of a choice of words?! They should just put the screws to . . .

"I simply wish I knew what game that was. Shipping around your supplies and people hasn't been cheap you know. The expense has used up almost all of your up front payment." de'Martou grumbled, waving a hand as Janglers made to speak. "I understand, deniability, that sort of thing, a condition for my reward is it not."

"You are as . . . Discreet as promised." Janglers commended, watching with insincere eyes. "And yes, your reward will be pending at the conclusion of this week. With any luck, the weakness within our fair Kindgom will be purged, and it will be thanks to men such as you who have remained true to our ideals as Tristain's rightful Elite." Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, the gaunt mage wiped his lips as if there was anything there to wipe. He'd barely shed a crumb or morsel while obliterating everything left on the plates in front of them. There is but one matter remaining. It is small, but essential, have you seen to it?"

de'Martou snorted derisively, as if the question was beneath him. Reaching into his cloak, he withdrew a scrap of paper embossed with a wax seal. Louise tried to get a good look at it, but failed before it vanished beneath Jangler's hand. "This is it?"

"Yes, yes, that's it!" de'Martou grumbled. "And you'd be surprised the lean I had to put on the whelp that he gave in at all." Leaning one cheek against his fist, the Tax Collector shrugged. "They can be that sort, naturally."

Jangler's eyes narrowed. "Will he be a problem? I can have him dealt with . . . discretely."

"Hardly necessary. His loyalties were misplaced, but he knows discretion well enough." de'Martou chuckled, his chins jiggling with the motion. "Besides, I rather think I'll have use of him when I'm properly titled."

"As you wish." The malice emanating from Jangler's posture disappeared as swiftly as it had come. "Then, if that is all, I really must take my leave. We shall need to meet again to make last arrangements. As I said, I cannot be sure how your services can be put to best use until the night of . . ."

'The night of what?!'

"Pshaw! There's always time for a little enjoyment, wouldn't you say." de'Martou's roaming hands had risen to chest level, and for the first time in her life, Louise was grateful for her personal deficiencies. Instead she had to contend with the discomfort of a meaty hand squashing against her chest. "You, girl!" He bellowed to Gimi who had been making her best effort to cross the room without drawing his attention. "The first strawberries are in, aren't they? Bring a bowl and a side of cream." Fearfully, Gimi hurried to the task.

"See, why don't you stay a while longer? The wild berries are perhaps the best that can be had," de'Martou blew a kiss from his corpulent lips, "Anywhere."

To his credit, Jangler's appeared as sickened by the gesture as Louise felt. Rising from his seat, the man gave a small bow. "I'm very sorry, perhaps another time, upon the success of our mutual venture perhaps. In the meantime please remain weary. Weak elements within our own Kingdom have caught scent of our plans. They will fail of course, but do not hesitate to report anything suspicious." An eye darted to KoKo for a moment, Louise swore it was only the one eye. "Anything at all."

"Yes, yes. You worry too much. I haven't made it this far without a lick of sense, now have I?" de'Martou clapped his hands as Gimli set his desert before him, complete with a tray of whipped cream.

In a swift, reptilian motion, Jangler snapped out, grabbing the first strawberry and popping it into his mouth. "No. I suppose not. Good evening Monsieur de'Martou."

With his guest gone, de'Martou became no more bearable, continuing to behave himself in a slovenly fashion well into the night. His comments to both Louise and KoKo grew brasher and more insulting. The things he'd said, that he'd promised to do . . . In the end, it was de'Martou's guards that saved them, hauling their inebriated employer from the shop with the last of the night's customer.

As the other guests departed, each placed a coin in front of an exhausted Louise and trembling KoKo.

When at last they were gone, leaving only the Inn staff, Louise breathed a sigh of relief, sagging down into a chair that was hastily offered by Jessica and a fervently apologetic Scarron. "You carried yourself magnificently Louise. Thank you, thank you so much for all of this!" The huge inn keeper squeezed her hands tightly. "I promise, double, no triple your tips for that!"

A heavier 'thud' came from the chair opposite Louise and she looked over worried. "Are you alright KoKo?" She felt, no knew, that it had bee harder on the Cait Woman.

"I'm fine, Louise-chan." KoKo said, pawing at the small satchel that she normally kept in a cupboard beneath the front counter. Louise knew it normally held KoKo's knife, and also some Faerie potions. 'Just in case', KoKo had said. Louise didn't think she ever wanted to know in case of what. But at the moment she had retrieved something far more mundane, a notebook, and a piece of pencil.

"We're all sorry that you were put through that, Louise, Miss KoKo!" Gimi said. "We should have warned you before now, but de'Martou is . . . he's the one person Mademoiselle has to treat courteously no matter what. That's Mademoiselle tries so hard with everyone else."

A hand rested on Louise's shoulder, it was Jessica this time, smiling as if to assure her that it was over, and that everything was going to be okay. "I'm sorry you had to find out first hand. But, I'm really glad you didn't fly off the handle Louise. You were a real 'Charming Faerie' tonight. And naturally Miss KoKo as well."

"Three cheers for our brave Faeries!" Scarron declared to the gathered girls. His request matched and exceeded.

"You did something for all of us tonight." Jessica added. "So now its our turn." The leftovers from the night's cooking were brought out and arranged on the table. Not just a few sausage and some stale bread. Rolls fresh from the oven, and even strawberries and cream saved just for them. "Just put your feet up for now and try to relax. We'll handle everything else."

A dozen heads nodded in agreement. The cleaning would be done tonight without Louise and KoKo's help. Instead, they were to savor their just rewards for a battle hard fought with a_'Guest'_ and also with themselves.

If only Louise could feel proud of that. But it was a shameful victory. Nobody should have to swallow their dignity like that just to get by. But the girls here at the Inn did so every time that de'Martou came here. Each one willing to make the sacrifice so that the others wouldn't have to. And from what Louise gathered from Jessica's muttering, she and KoKo had been lucky. Tonight, de'Martou had gotten too drunk to get very far in his advances. It wasn't always that way.

"You mean . . ." Louise whispered back as Jessica confirmed. "Just . . . Just don't talk about it . . . "

She would have asked why the girls didn't quit if that was to be their fate. But she already knew the answer. Most of the girls here were like Louise was _supposed _to be. Daughters who couldn't be married off, or who simply couldn't be supported. Scarron was a kind man, and he did everything he could to protect them, but he was no mage, and no Noble. They simply didn't have any place else to go.

Worse. Louise had known that there were Nobles that abused their status. But not like this. Terrance de'Martou was nothing, a speck at the very bottom rung of the nobility. And yet he could do as he was pleased with the girls here. Because even the lowliest Noble stood above the highest commoner.

The big wrongs argued back and forth in the High Courts seemed so petty compared to the small torments that went on in the shadow of the Capital itself. Had it always been this rotten?

She wished she could tell Jessica, and Gimi, and the other girls that everything would be alright and that soon, de'Martou would never be able to do anything to them again. She wished she could take Scarron aside and thank him for everything. And she would, as soon as this was over, she swore that she would. But first that meant bringing de'Martou to justice by exposing his masters. The plot that had been mentioned was a start, but they had nothing, not even . . .

"Louise."

"Please, not right now." Louise didn't even notice that it was KoKo who had spoken until she called to her again.

"Oh, what is . . ." Louise looked across the table to the open notebook, and to KoKo's hastily scribed drawing. At first she couldn't quite tell what it was supposed to be. A stylized and overlapped A and B placed back to back, but the rough circle drawn around the perimeter was clue enough. "The letter." She breathed.

"The embossed seal on the wax." KoKo said. "I got a good look at it. And I bet stuff like that is important. Right?"

Brown and Gold eyes met, and together, the Mage and the Faerie shared a smile.

* * *

Away from the Garden, away from her Sisters, and from her friends, the familiar sights and smells. The past was muddled and the future was uncertain. The fate of her Sisters, and the fate of herself. Botan knew only one comfort at a time like this.

Closing her eyes and listening carefully, it was the sound of a softly beating heart, whispers like wind chimes, and thunder in the near distance. Most of all, it was the last one she listened to, a noise that wasn't a noise, but instead something much more than that. Resonating with what she had become.

It had no rhythm, and yet she could move to it, with it. It had no lyrics and yet its meaning was perfectly clear. It defined what was expected of her, what she knew, told her how to be. Told her wings to split and grow, and her body to become stronger. Told her mind to clear and her senses to sharpen. It told her who she was, and why she had been born.

Here, alone, that sense of purpose gave her the strength to go on when she'd rather have ripped off her own wings in despair. But she would not do that. She would not make the Sisters that depended on her suffer such a disservice. When she had stood before Yggdrasil and had her most fervent wish granted, she had surrendered the right to fail.

And so, for yet another night, she stalked the ceilings and crawl ways of the abandoned mansion. The immense nest built all to serve just _one_ being. It seemed impossible, insane, against every sense of scale that she knew. But it was just so.

She really had no right to complain. Now that Kirche had retreated to watch from afar, not daring to overstay her welcome, she was the only one who could do this. The wasted space made hiding easy, and more importantly, made listening in on the conversation beneath her now almost trivial. She didn't even need her innate talents as a Knight to do something like this.

Alright, being skilled with sword and magic had come a little in handy. Those ferrets had been pretty dangerous. But she'd frightened them off easily enough. The native wildlife didn't know what to make of a Pixie, only that it was small, unlikely to make a satisfying meal, and very painful to attack.

More worrying was the fact the ferrets had been wearing collars about their necks. Tabitha seemed to think they were trained guard animals, specially bred to hunt and kill any small familiars that would be of use in spying. All the more reason to snoop if there was something to hide.

"Still moping that your wench is gone on her way?"

Over the past days and nights. Botan had been given plenty of opportunity to listen in and learn the names of everyone here. That one was the human called Digby and she knew that he was a strong fire mage. He also wasn't a very nice person. Even though he was supposed to be their leader, the others seemed to like Chadrick much better.

"Who wouldn't, she was a fair bit better company than you, old boy."

And that would be Chadrick answering. An Earth Mage, not as a strong as Digby, but still very skilled from what she could gather. More importantly, everyone seemed to think he was an excellent writer. In fact, he spent most of his time writing and muttering under his breath, and also composing and decomposing letters using the little black book he kept with him all of the time. Tabitha had called it a cypher when she had described it, and apparently it was used to write in special codes that only someone with a copy of the black book could read.

At the moment, Botan burned to read those notes in hopes that they might offer some hint of her Sisters and their whereabouts. But even if she'd had a cypher of her own, as of yet, her lessons had not taken her far enough to read the squiggles on the paper save for a few common words. And even the ones she thought she knew were difficult to read out at times. Maybe, maybe, she should take her reading lessons more seriously. She shook her head irritably, to think a Knight would have to learn stuff like that, really, it was much more Hinagiku's style.

"Enough." Digby grumbled. "It was a bad idea to allow her here. She might have found us out. And you'd have had a time making her vanish. Or didn't you hear the name? A Zerbst."

"It sounds familiar." Chadrick admitted. "Germanian . . . They're . . ."

"They're one of the largest and most powerful families in Germania you blithering idiot." Digby snarled. "Two of the last candidates for Emperor were from their line, and they only narrowly lost out on ruling the entire country because of it. If she's a relation to the Zerbst's then making her vanish would would draw a great deal of attention we can ill afford."

A soft laugh met Digby's reply. That would be Isabella, the groups only water mage and usually very dour. As Botan reached her preferred hiding spot in the rafters and peaked down on the parlor, she was met by the sight of the dozen mages gathered together by candlelight. The rooms one good table was covered in papers, maps, and books.

A decidedly more wobbly table had been loaded down with food that reeked of preservatives. Salted pork and other spiced meats, pickled vegetables, and hard, dense breads and cheeses. Botan had grown familiar with Military Rations thanks to the musketeers, and the quality had spurred her and Schwartz on their hunting expeditions lest they have to resort to eating it once again.

"You're afraid of Germanian intervention? We'll be done in a few days time." Walking around the table and gracefully as a cat, the dark haired woman confronted Dibgy. "Soon our allies will be free to move openly."

"Soon, but not yet." The compact, but powerfully built man slammed one hand down heavily on the table. "It's _only_ the blooming thing we're here for! Or do you think these Tristanian inbreds could find their own arses without our help? We can't be jeopardizing the preparations."

The dull, meaty impact, was followed shortly by a spattering of plaster from the ceiling right beside Botan. The sudden loss of cover nearly made her take flight, but she kept her calm. Inhaling deeply, she was given pause as she recognized a naggingly familiar scent, stronger this time, she could almost recall it.

"At this late stage?" Chadrick let out his own soft laugh. "I think you're expecting a bit much for us to be found out because of one little dalliance. I am a writer and actor first my good man, I need my motivations. Which are . . . woefully lacking in this place."

"And yet you disobey me anyways. Unreliable, the lot of you." Digby noted, turning to look at the other mages in the room, glowering in particular at a man in the far corner whose face was hidden by a wide brimmed hat. Slouched in one decrepit chair, his feet up in the other, Botan was certain he must have been sleeping. "And then there's you, you . . . are you even listen . . ."

"Quite well in fact. Or did you think I'd already logged off?" The answer was lightly spoken and genial, even so, the speaker didn't bother to stir from his seat. The sudden reply repelled the men who had been standing closest to him, muttering and cursing beneath their breaths. "The question is, why do you care? Have I not executed my part masterfully? Are not two Royal Guard officers dead in the city streets?"

The smell, Botan was almost sure it was him, like the rich scent of decomposing earth on a misty morning, and night crawlers wriggling beneath the surface.

"Dead, and gone, and screaming that their murders were deliberate!" Digby grumbled beneath his breath. "Why we've had a thing to do with you and your master . . . But Jangler's vouches for you."

"As he should." Chadrick said, his smile enough to illicit another curse from Digby. "Cloak and dagger may be your game old boy, but you lack a flair for the dramatic. We _want_ Tristain to connect the dots after the fact. We _want_ them to believe the story we're crafting. So naturally, he is quite right to add a . . . flourish to his work."

"That's only if they connect the dots _after_ the fact." Digby muttered. "What if they are swifter than we expect? What then?"

"Well, I imagine that's what we have you for, Old Boy." Chadrick smiled as he snatched a piece of hard bread from the table. "A former member of the King's Hands, you should know every dirty trick to keep us one step ahead. Chipper up, we've only to make it to the end of the week."

"And gather our supplies. And execute the plan flawlessly." Digby added. "Just these few days to be ready. And it may all be for not if we don't get . . ."

"You'll get it." The black hatted man said once more. "You'll get the drop you need, even if I have to squeeze it from his body with my bare hands that very night."

"And of course, you. I suppose your work speaks for itself. But this will be different. How do we know you'll fulfill your contract, Mister Jack?"

At last the hatted man looked up, just as Botan recognized the scent. She gasped as she saw the skin of his ashen face, and the black hairs that twisted like wire. "That's _Rip_ Jack, Michigan J." Rising from his seat and holding his hat close to his chest. "And I'm shocked you need ask. I'd have thought my results speaks for themselves. Do not fear, your Prince _will _die and your Princess will be delivered to another castle. And if they do not, it will be no fault of mine."


	22. We Will Never See Eye to Eye

Halkegenia Online v2.0 – Chapter 8 - Part 1

It was ironic, Sakuya thought.

Prior to Dunkirk, prior to the Fae spontaneously coming into existence in Halkgenia, prior to the ridiculous impossibility that was the Transition, there had been a mode of thought amongst the former players of the VRMMO ALfheim Online that the secret to completing the game's grand quest and achieving the reward of unlimited flight lay in cooperation rather than the endless cycle of conflict among the player driven factions.

In fact, there was evidence that a cooperatively driven game mechanic had been the original plan prior to ALfheim being co-opted by RETCO Progress for the launch of their Full Dive Division.

The signs were everywhere if one bothered to look. In the game lore, in the affinities of each of the races, and in some of the more obscure options found buried within the Faction Leader Menu. It was even hinted at, rather blatantly, in the room that Sakuya stood in now, looked down upon by a trio of beautifully carved statues, ostensibly representing the three Patron Goddesses that protected the World Tree from evil.

Placed at the very top of Arrun tower, beneath a brass capped dome, the Council Chamber of the Faerie Court had been viewed by most as a sort of inside joke on the part of RETCO's game designers. For one, what use did nine factions set to constantly be at each others throats have for a diplomatic chamber? For another, the room had been closed off by an unbreakable door that required the presence of all nine Lords' Crests to unseal.

It was rather convenient really, it was the perfect meeting place for the Nine Faerie Lords and provided a suitably impressive venue to receive the more high nosed members of the Tristanian Nobility who couldn't help but be impressed by the architecture.

Alicia had even managed to cleverly turn the Chamber into another symbol of unity among the Fae, showcasing it to Netzel and some of her friends from the Daily ALfheim. The favorable article that had appeared the very next day had been worth the added effort of presenting a united front.

'Now if only we could take that lesson to heart.' But whether in a game, or real life, it appeared that they were all determined to ignore what was staring them in the face. They needed each other.

Which was why Sakuya was standing here now, reluctantly hoping to put out the fire that was quickly burning the very last bridge between herself and the Lord of the Salamanders. He wasn't making it easy.

"Late." Sakuya muttered to herself, glancing up to the clock that was framed over the tall doorway. She tried tapping her foot, but the muted impact against the carpet was thoroughly unsatisfying.

The Salamander Lord had been the one to suggest this time, so why wasn't he here? The defense council meeting was scheduled to start in half an hour and she would be damned if Mortimer would use being late as an excuse to start in on his own agenda.

Ephi frowned as he noted his Lady's agitation. "Lady Sakuya?"

She waved a hand. "It's nothing." She nodded as the door began to creak open. "He's here."

Composed as always, if the Lord of the Salamanders felt any lingering humility after last night, it was well hidden by now as he stepped quickly in the company of two of his guards. "I apologize for my tardiness, Sakuya." Mortimer preempted her question. "There was a matter that needed my supervision."

Sakuya bit down the urge to make a snide remark, now was not the time for that. The Commander of Mortimer's personal Guard still must have picked up on it, the small woman giving a curt nod. "Lady Sakuya."

Nodding back. "Lydia." Turning back to Mortimer, Sakuya held a neutral expression. "Mortimer, I'm here as you asked. For the next . . ." She glanced up to the clock. " . . . twenty five minutes, you have my undivided attention."

At first, Sakuya had to wonder if Mortimer was intent on simply wasting her time. The Salamander Lord didn't reply, didn't make a noise. The only sign that he was in fact alive, rather than an elaborate mannequin, was a slow blinking of the eyes. At last, he nodded to himself as if completing some internal process.

"If you would please." Mortimer gestured down the carpet to the center of the chamber where the seats of the nine Lords were set before a center table, ringed by elevated benches meant for onlookers. All so impressive, so formal, so very official. It still felt surreal from time to time, now most of all.

She spared a glance at Mortimer from the corner of her eye. Somewhere behind that mask was another person from Japan. He could have been a student like herself, a salary man, a government official, anything really. That was part of the problem, she couldn't read him in the least. He didn't _want_ to be read. In fact, she couldn't shake the impression that he wanted it that way.

They took to the center of the room, their attending guards standing off politely to offer the illusion of privacy. Anyone who knew better could of told that they were still well within earshot of acute Faerie hearing.

"So." Sakuya said slowly. "We've had a chance to cool down like you wanted. Now, what is it that you wanted to talk about?"

"It is . . . Rio." Mortimer said carefully. "And specifically, what happened last night. I know that you noticed it as well, he knew about Jack."

Mortimer offered a chance for the comment to sink in, time that Sakuya used to think. Mortimer was right of course, despite everything else that separated them, he wasn't _stupid_ in the least. Nor was he unobservant.

Mortimer's reputation in ALO had been well earned on every level. In particular, he had kept his plans very close to his chest. In fact, the only people who'd known of Rip Jack's status as an assassin in service to the Salamanders was Mortimer, Eugene, and Morgiana. And the Spriggan Lord only knew because of her habit of checking the status of all the strongest Spriggan Fighters.

The Chance that Rio had pieced together Rip Jack's connection to Mortimer was small, and likelier by far was that someone had tipped him off. Unlikelier still was the possibility that Rio was directly connected to the murders, possibly even Jack's client. In which case . . . No, Sakuya shook her head, as stupid as he was, Rio was idiotic, she refused to believe he was evil.

"I've already alerted the investigation team." Sakuya said. "They'll be looking into this while the manhunt gets started. If Rio is involved, we'll need to find evidence to build a case against him."

"A time consuming proposition with the investigation team a man short." Mortimer pointed out. The Salamander Lord clasped his hand behind his back, pacing in a wide, slow, circle around Sakuya.

The Sylph's eyes narrowed dangerously. "He wasn't an investigator, he was your spy. Color me unsympathetic."

Sakuya frowned. And anyways, hadn't Morgiana chosen someone to take his place? She would have sworn she'd heard mention. Then again, Morgiana hadn't been herself these past few days, restless, the humor had drained out of her, and even the other Spriggans were skittish in her presence. Sakuya suspected that given a chance, the Spriggan Lord would happily have rung Jack's neck herself.

"He is also a member of a very small pool of people with past investigative experience, real or virtual." Mortimer answered back. Was that a hint of annoyance that she heard, or merely her imagination?

"Maybe that's true." Then again, maybe it wasn't, not that she actually doubted the man's credentials. They were far past weighing people on their occupation and job titles in that other world. All that mattered here were the results. "His judgment has left a great deal to be desired."

In fact, it made him as bad as Mortimer. Even if it was just a suspicion, Vakarian had been obliged to inform the rest of the investigation. Instead, he had opted to keep it a secret until he had spoken with his Faction Leader.

They simply couldn't afford to tolerate that sort of casual conspiracy within their own ranks. There were no official channels to go through yet, no judges or courts, until those things could be established, the conduct they held themselves to was the only guide they had.

"Be that as it may, we've allowed things to get out of hand." Mortimer glanced over his shoulder at her. "We need to regain control, quickly."

That . . . was true. Every day that they didn't show initiative was another that the people's confidence in them slipped. Until the promised elections, their results were the only credibility they had. "Then for once we agree. Let me guess. Vakarian has police experience, but he hasn't organized a manhunt before. You want him on the investigation of Rio?"

"Among other things." Mortimer agreed. "Time is short right now, in fact, I would like to propose an expedient."

"An expedient?" Sakuya repeated the world carefully.

"Every day that Rip Jack goes uncaught is another murder waiting to happen. In light of that, we need to be willing to take measures to bring him to justice swiftly." As casually as is he was asking her to lunch, Mortimer finished. "If Rio _does_ know anything about Jack's whereabouts, we need that information. We cannot afford to wait. Which is why I need your assistance, Sakuya, this will be a delicate matter which will doubtless upset the public. "

Sakuya was stricken speechless. Was he really suggesting what she thought he was? Then, shock was replaced by a different emotion, a hotter one. "This is what you wanted to speak to me about?!"

"I thought it over last night." The Salamander admitted calmly. "In the balance of things, Rio is our best lead to tighten the net around Rip Jack. We can't afford to wait while the investigators snoop around. Interrogation will be far more efficient."

"Interrogation!"

Mortimer's browse rose only slightly. "Yes. Questioning, and cross examination of each of the members of Rio's guild in isolation, and detention to prevent them from obscuring any evidence. It's not like I'm suggesting torture. I think we both know how counter productive that would be."

"Oh, I know quite a bit better than you'd think." Sakuya covered her face with her hand. "What you're suggesting is incarceration without evidence!" Sakuya didn't care that she had raised her voice. There was a line that they shouldn't cross, and now Mortimer wanted them to charge right over it. "Do you have any idea what the backlash will be like?"

"Naturally, this has to be handled delicately." Mortimer shrugged. "That is why I'm asking for your support. Rio makes his residence in Sylvain, you are his Lord. If you agree, then I believe the people can be convinced to accept it for the sake of public safety. Action taken without your consent would doubtless be . . . problematic."

"It's not whether they'll accept it or not." Sakuya hissed, stepping forward quickly, she broke through the path of Mortimer's pacing and forced him to look her in the eyes. "This is exactly the sort of thinking that got you into this mess! Do you know what you're saying, the divide you'll create?"

The majority might support hasty action, they would regret it one day, but in the heat of the moment they would dive in after Mortimer if it would stop the killings. And it would drive a permanent wedge between them and those who supported Rio. Worse, it would vindicate him.

Doing what Mortimer suggested was a betrayal of everything that they ought to believe in. They simply _couldn't _do that. They needed everyone to pull together now or they would never form the community they would need to survive in this place.

Sakuya knew she'd been lucky the night before, it was a gamble that she could quash Rio on his one legitimate argument. But this would give him new grounds and new legitimacy in the eyes of his flagging supporters.

"After last night, Rio's reputation is in tatters. He's already done his worst, and now his support is flagging." Mortimer surmised clinically. "I'm sure that some of his more zealous supporters can be coaxed into an altercation. Somewhere public. That should give us cause to have them arrested for questioning." Turning on his heel. "Played right and it could even offer a boost to public confidence. What did Regin call it? The persistence of the rule of law?"

"And now you're suggesting character assassination." Sakuya said under her breath. Somehow, she couldn't work up the anger any more, she was just so tired of this. "Tell me, do you have to _work_ at being this untrustworthy, or does it just come naturally?"

"I came to you in hopes of mending that." The Salamander wasn't the least effected by her words. "You said you wanted me to be open about my plans. It's a basic political strategy, I thought that you'd be aware of it. Besides, once Rio's association with Rip Jack is determined, his last shred of credibility will be destroyed."

"And what if Rio is clean?" Sakuya asked, shaking her head. There was a very real chance of that. Or that he wasn't involved directly and had learned what he knew by hearsay. "What then Mortimer? Rio won't forget, and we'll have handed him everything he'll need to keep up his attacks."

"He's not." Mortimer insisted. "Maybe he isn't in contact with Jack, but he must know someone who is." She found the certainty in his voice disturbing.

It was insane. Mortimer had to know that! Question, yes, investigation, of course! But detention? _Interrogation_? The man was cold, but always calculating, except now, after Rio had humiliated him . . . Sakuya felt a pit form in her stomach.

"Mortimer. It this because of what Rio said about Jack," she took a breath, "Or what he did to you in front of everyone?"

Silence while the Salamander weighed the question. "I don't see how that changes anything."

"That depends entirely on you." Sakuya said. "You can have Vakarian look into Rio. I'll reverse my stance as long as he reports his findings to all of us. But I will not let you arrest Rio or any of the ABC guild without evidence of wrong doing."

The room fell as silent as the grave as she awaited his reply. There was a whispered hissing of air through teeth but the voice was as dispassionate as ever. "One of these days Sakuya, you're going to have to compromise your morals."

"One of these days you're going to have to stop seeing them as a weakness." She replied tiredly.

"On the contrary, it's commendable." Pity there was no way to tell if that was sincere. "But there is an algebra at play here, Sakuya. The scales have to balance, one way or the other. It won't matter if the people hate us next spring if we're dead by this winter."

"You think I don't know that?" She wondered out loud.

Did she think seeing Novair's body hadn't effected her? That she hadn't wanted to cry when she saw the dead brought back from Newcastle? That she didn't wake up in a cold sweat thinking about the armies that were amassing, coming for them?

All of them took so much for granted, so many things from the kinder, gentler world where they had been born and raised. Who knew how much of that they would have to sacrifice before this was over. But she'd fight tooth and nail for it every step of the way. Every life _and_ lost innocence. Because if they threw away the last bits of who they'd been, succumbed to expedients, it would be the same as if they'd died.

She thought she heard something under Mortimer's breath but she even with her hearing, she couldn't be sure. His lips had moved at least. Then, they parted again as he readied his reply. Before a word was spoken. There was a hammering at the door of the chamber.

"A messenger?" Sakuya wondered out loud as an Imp let himself in jogging lightly up to the the guard who blocked his path to Sakuya and Mortimer. It had to be something important for them to hunted down like this on such short notice. "Let him through." Sakuya instructed to the Guards, the two Salamanders standing down only reluctantly. "What's the matter? Do you have something to report?"

The Imp was pale, paler than usual that was. "Lady Sakuya, Lord Mortimer, we've just received a priority message from the Capital. You have to come quickly. It's about the Murderer Rip Jack."

On most days, the Arrun Tower Offices of Lady Sakuya would be a light and airy place in the early morning hours. But not today. Today the light and openess had been replaced with darkness and claustrophobia. The doors were locked, the guards doubled. The windows were shut, the curtains drawn, casting the room into foreboding shadow that only deepened in the presence of a Moonlight Mirror and its projecting Imp mage.

Attending from the far side of the silver pool suspended in the center of the room were Princess Henrietta, Prince Wales, and two members of the Royal Guard. The first was a tall, impressive looking man, Captain Hammond of the Manticore Knights. The other, smaller and slighter, a woman wearing the colors of the Princess' honor guard, Argo didn't have anything on her but decided to take note. Female soldiers were rare after all.

The Fae Lords, those that had been present in Arrun and available on short notice, Sakuya, Mortimer, Alicia, and Morgiana, stood or sat beside the Sylph Lord's desk, while the Investigation Team stood along the wall opposite the windows like soldiers at parade. Or convicts on a firing line. Argo thought to herself as rested between Kirito and Caramella. Not that she had any right to complain. As far as she was concerned, they had now officially failed in their original objective.

Jack had succeeded in perpetrating nearly a half dozen murders while being totally undeterred by their efforts to first identify and then capture him. In fact, they'd only discovered his identity by chance, a chill ran down her spine and tail. A second longer, Argo would have been down all nine of her lives and they'd have been none the wiser. It had haunted her for the last couple of nights now, and more, something else about it nagged at her, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

A pair of small hands pressed against her cheek, Suisen, dressed in dark ensemble with a matching hood of her very own, nodded back to the Fae Lords without a word. Argo realized she'd been letting her thoughts wonder and hadn't even noticed.

Naturally, when a detachment of her Majesty's Royal Guard discovered a Faerie consulting with agents of the Kingdom that they were presently at war with, the news got passed up the chain of command, skipping a few links to be brought to the attention of the ostensible Lords of said Faerie. It then became said Lords' responsibility to explain to the Crown that said Faerie was not simply a smuggler or petty criminal, but a murderer and quite possibly an assassin for hire.

Things didn't get any better when the Faerie Lords and the Royal Guard Captain pieced together that Jack was also the likely perpetrator behind two more very brutal killings in the streets of Tristania.

'I don't envy Sakuya-chan right now.' Argo kept her eyes on the Lady of the Sylphs. She hadn't buckled under the strain yet, but the signs were starting to show if you knew what to look for.

"And you're sure? Absolutely sure?" Sakuya repeated for emphasis. Said that way, the question sounded patently ridiculous. She probably didn't want to believe it.

Argo didn't want to believe it either. It was just too impossible to believe. But whether she believed or not didn't matter to the truth. Rip Jack was working with Reconquista. Enemies of Tristain, and the greatest existential threat to the Fae in all of Halkegenia.

A multitude of questions jockeyed for position in her overstressed mind. Foremost among them being the motivation of their deranged murderer cum assassin. If Jack was working for Reconquista, he had to have a clear objective. How were the murders connected? Had his Faerie victims simply been an indulgence? A calling card? A demonstration?

"I saw it for myself Sakuya-sama." The reply came from a girl no bigger than the palm of Argo's hand, a Pixie Vespid Knight standing on the far side of the moonlight mirror being projected all the way to Tristania. Shaking her head. "And his scent, he was definitely a Spriggan. And he was talking about killing Prince Wales and capturing Princess Henrietta."

"Of course he was." Sakuya breathed. If not for her company, the Sylph looked like she would have let her head come down on her desk. Instead, gently massaging her temples.

"Princess, I cannot express my shame over this." Sakuya said with all the diplomacy she could muster.

This had to be handled delicately, _very _delicately. They had been extremely lucky that so many highly placed Nobles had come to think favorably of the Fae, the Princess and Prince Wales especially. But this could endanger them all over again.

Thankfully, Henrietta was either more merciful or more understanding than any late feudal Royal had a right to be. With a small nod of the head, she smiled tiredly. "I don't hold this against you or your people, Sakuya." Clasping her hands with a look of shame. "Compared to my own errors, this is a trifling matter and shouldn't be allowed to come between us."

"With all due respect, Princess, the Radicals in the House of Peers won't see it that way." Sakuya warned.

Argo had to agree with that assessment. In fact, this would be exactly the sort of ammunition they were looking for. The uniquely threatened situation of the Faeries and the political windfall they'd won after the Dunkirk Operation had freed the Crown to deal generously with the Fae as trustworthy allies despite their newcomer status. More than the assassinations, Rip Jack's mere association with Reconquista agents would do damage disproportionate even to his superb abilities as a killer.

"That is . . . That is true." Henrietta admitted. "I suppose I should be the one who is sorry for that." The Princess shook her head. "The Radicals are a spawning ground for Reconquista sympathizers and we've made little progress in rooting them out. If we had, this wouldn't be as much of a problem."

"It doesn't have to be a problem now, either Princess." Mortimer answered back.

Sakuya didn't even try to disguise the glare that she gave the Salamander Lord. Argo's ears perked, there was something juicy in that look. Too bad her survival instincts were warning her away from it like the plague.

"If you have an idea, Lord Mortimer," Prince Wales said, "I wouldn't mind hearing it."

'This ought to be good.' Argo gave Suisen a small tap on the head, their signal to listen carefully.

Not that she needed it, hood down and mouse ears perked attentively. The Pixie girl really had become something different, something special. More alert, more aware of her surroundings and even herself.

"Captain Hammond, how many of your men know about Jack?" Mortimer asked quickly.

"Men?" The Manticore Knight blinked.

The woman at the Captain's side stepped forward, speaking up clearly. "Around a dozen of my musketeers are involved with the stakeout along with a trio of mages who have been sworn to secrecy on pain of death. Other than ourselves, the only people who know any details are the Queen and Cardinal Mazarin."

"And you are?" Mortimer gave the woman a look that might almost have been approving.

"Lieutenant Agnes of Her Majesty's musketeers." With a small bow, she added. "It is of course my honor to be of service, Lord Mortimer."

"Then, may I ask Lieutenant," Mortimer continued, "What are the reasons that you haven't moved on this safe house before now?"

The Lieutenant gave her superior a swift glance and only continued after a nod of ascent. "This is part of a larger investigation. I'm sure you're already well aware of Viscount Wardes and his betrayal."

"And what the Crown is doing about it." Mortimer agreed, receiving a mild look of surprise from the musketeer.

"This has been confided in us." Sakuya agreed. "You've no reason to fear. We've kept it in utmost confidence."

"Very well." Agnes took a breath and continued. "Then, as you know, we've spent the last several weeks identifying suspected Reconquista spies. The movement is not tied to a single nation or creed and the branches that have been allowed to take root in Tristain are extensive. The difficulty is, though we've found a fair number of their sympathizers, we have yet to succeed in uncovering the puppet masters themselves. If we move now . . ."

"You'll lose your chance to root out the masterminds." Mortimer finished for her. "I see how even the capture of a murderer would not be justified."

Too right. Tristain really needed to make a clean sweep of their upper branches of government. If they didn't get all the ring leaders, the spies and networks of saboteurs that were existent in the country would just be rebuilt.

"Unfortunately, if Rip Jack is in the employ of Reconquista, we have to assume he's acting as part of a larger plan." Sakuya decided. "The threat he poses whether they fail or succeed cannot be tolerated now. The repercussions . . . "

"Of a Faerie being involved in an assassination and kidnapping plot." The Princess nodded severely. "I know, Sakuya, but at the same time, this is our best chance at ridding the Kingdom of its cancer before the war starts in earnest."

Leaning against the wall behind Sakuya, Morgiana barked out in protest. "Gotta say, I'm in Sakuya's court on this one." She growled as she pushed off of the wall and came to plant her hands on top of the polished surface of the desk. "You don't want this going public? Fine. Just tell me where that shriveled little bastard is hiding and the Kurotaka will make him and the rest disappear!"

"I'm afraid that, as cathartic as it may be, you can't do that." Mortimer sighed, eyes closed, expression composed as if he was deep in thought. Or maybe he'd just fallen asleep, Argo thougt sarcastically. The stone cold routine worked most of the time, but when it didn't, it left Mortimer seeming slightly out of touch with reality. Not a good quality in a leader.

Morgiana turned on the Salamander with all of the menice of a field boss. "Like _hell _I'm not!"

Argo had to wonder if maybe her feline instincts were as under control as she though after her brief episode. Looking at Morgiana, she certainly felt the urge to climb up onto something tall and hiss. She wasn't the only Cait in the room to pick up on it either.

"Nehe!" Trying to defuse the situation before it came to, very physical, blows, Argo's own faction leader got between the two opposing Lords. Alicia waved her arms frantically. "Now, now, Morgi-chan! Mort-kun! You both have good points and everything. But what we need now is to keep our cool! Nyeh?"

"This _is_ my cool." Morgiana ground out.

"Look," attaching herself to one of the Spriggan Lords arms, "I know you're not going to like it, Morgiana," Alicia spoke knowingly, as if lecturing her fellow Lord, "But we can't really be so hasty, right? This is a spy network we're talking about. The best time to hunt their operatives is when they're all active at the same time. And they definitely won't miss something like one of their safe houses being raided out of nowhere. If they all go to ground we'll never flush them out again."

"That is our reasoning exactly." Captain Hammond agreed. "In fact, thanks in large part to the efforts of the Lieutenant and one of your own . . ."

"Excuse me?" Sakuya frowned. "One of ours?"

"A Cait Syth." Agnes confirmed. "I assumed you sent her." The Lieutenants eyes narrowed. "She was vouched for by a daughter of the Valliere family. You did send her, didn't you?"

Well, that would be news to Argo. And she thought that she'd been keeping herself up to date on the who and what of what was happening with her faction. Everyone turned to Alicia as if expecting an answer.

For a moment the diminutive Cait girl was frozen, eyes blinking. Then she smiled sheepishly, raising a hand in embarrassment. "If a Valliere is involved, I'm betting that it's KoKo."

"KoKo?" Sakuya tilted her head. "I do remember that she was continuing with the Tarbes investigation." Looking back to the mirro. "Then I assume she was sidetracked?"

"She volunteered when it became clear that the smuggler that she was looking for was the same man we've been keeping under watch." Agnes confirmed, an uncertain look replacing the stone mask of neutrality. "She's proven quite effective, albeit . . . unconventional."

"As I was saying." Captain Hammond interrupted. "Thanks to their help, the Lieutenants investigation has recently made a break through. We've discovered the identity of a highly placed Reconquista conspirator who we believe may lead to their inner circle if given the chance."

"It also proves the taxe offices are as rotten as we suspected." Agnes added with a growl.

"The point being, that we've never been closer than we are now to dragging this whole retched tree of treachery out into the light." The Manticore Knight finished. "That is why, I must beg your cooperation for just a little while longer. You will have your murderer and justice will be done, but carefully, and at the right moment."

The room was silent as everyone absorbed what had just been said. "You're saying that we have to wait for the exact right moment?" Sakuya laced her fingers before her. It was a posture that Argo was used to seeing only when the Sylph Lord was smiling confidently, but right now, Sakuya had dropped that act entirely. Instead, she was thin lipped, her brow furrowed.

"Exactly so." Hammond agreed.

"Then let me answer you with this. What happens if we miss this opportune moment?" Sakuya asked. "We will be playing right into the hands of the Radicals pressing for more control over the relationship between ourselves and Tristain. And, as the Princess has already said, those same radicals are a breeding ground of Reconquista Sympathizers."

It was the Prince of Albion that replied. "I understand your concerns, Lady Sakuya, and I do sympathize. But in the scheme of things we must gamble cautiously. If knowledge of your assassin's involvement becomes public, it will be many times worse if Reconquista can capitalize on it from within."

"Which is probably what they're doing right now." Sakuya silenced Wales without raising her voice, without anything but her well chosen words. "If jack is exposed, succeed or fail, it will benefit Reconquista and their allies here in Tristain. That is very likely the entire reason behind using him."

Those words reached Argo's ears, and then rattled around inside of her head. Finally, what had been bothering her clicked. "I think Sakuya-san is right." Argo spoke up, getting everyone's attention before continuing. "Tis been bugging me for a while now sa. But the only reason we _know_ about Rip Jack's identity tis that he botched things when he . . . when he went after me."

Beside her, Kirito grimaced. He hadn't been getting much sleep the last couple of nights, for different reasons. While Argo had been tossing and turning, Kirito had been on watch for any sign of another attempt on her life. Lot of good it had done them now.

"Yeah, it's thanks to you that we got a positive ID." Morgiana crossed her arms. "What, you're saying we should stare a gift horse in the mouth?"

"Actually, yeah." Argo shook her head, speaking more confidently now. The pieces seemed to fit. "Think about it. Jack is a high caliber Ganker, you don't get that way by being sloppy." Not in ALO with its , and especially not in real life. "I've been thinking how lucky I was that Suisen woke me up in time."

The Pixie on her shoulder, fluttered her slender, mosquito-like wings in acknowledgment.

"But Jack should have never have given me and Suisen that chance. And then, instead of bolting right away, he stuck around so that Caramella could get a good look at him and everyone in the Watch got to see his techniques." Argo's brain was working over time. She'd either just cracked something big, or had finally fallen off the edge and into the abyss of paranoid delusion.

Caramella tapped her on the shoulder. "Care to explain for the rest of us?"

"I think what Argo is saying, is that Rip Jack _wanted _to be ID'd." Kirito said for the benefit of everyone gathered. "Is that right?"

Argo gave a small nod. "I know it sounds crazy but . . ." It made sense from a certain angle, the attacks.

He wanted to use his notoriety so that when it was revealed that he was working for Reconquista, there would be no way to claim ignorance. Normally, that would be suicidal for an Assassin, but with the faction disguise ability Rip Jack only needed to be willing to sacrifice his 'True' form. Looking around a room full of people, only a handful wearing the faces they'd been born with, Argo was willing to bet it would be a small price to pay.

"It's not." Sakuya assured her with a sympathetic smile. "You make a very good point. I'm sorry if thinking about it again is difficult." Then, returning to the conversation at hand. "I think that Argo has made my point for me. If Reconquista is using Jack as a means to an end, then we might be able to wait. But if he is the ends?" Turning to the Princess. "Princess Henrietta, what does Mazarin . . . What do you think?"

Seeming surprised to have been put on the spot. Henrietta hesitated for only a moment. "I . . . I've talked it over with my Regent." Her expression turned apologetic. "Mazarin agrees with Captain Hammond's assessment. And . . . so do I. But please, I swear that we'll do everything we can to protect the Fae."

"Everything, would be to send a strike force to collect Jack right now. And to keep this from becoming public knowledge." Sakuya said. "And I'm not even sure that will work."

"I'm all for giving it a shot." Morgiana added, cracking her knuckles menacingly. "We can be ready in half an hour."

"If I may suggest a compromise."

Whether it was the idea, or the person who had broached it, everyone was silent. For his part, Mortimer appeared utterly serious. "We have Jack's location. We have his targets. We know the broad intention of the enemy's plan." The Salamander shrugged. "I think we should capitalize on that."

"It was always our intent to keep them under close watch." Captain Hammond said.

"Good." Mortimer decided. "Then, I would suggest that we make sure that an _accident_ reveals this assassination plot before it can unfold."

Alicia's ears twitched with intrigue. "When you say accident . . ."

"The kind that can in no way be traced back to us. Mere coincidence, bad luck, as it were." Mortimer frowned. "I do hope I'm making myself clear."

"Crystal." Sakuya admitted, reaching up to rub at her eyes. "That's still too big a risk. What if they slip your surveillance before you can arrange for this _accident_ to happen?"

"Then we will still have the advantage." Prince Wales decided. "We will still know that an attempt is planned, and we will know to be on heightened guard. I can accept that risk to myself on behalf of Tristain."

"But can you accept it on behalf of the other target?" Sakuya questioned sharply. The Prince was a blue blood through and through, his eyes only widened ever so slightly as Sakuya stared him down. "Don't forget that Henrietta is also in danger. You may know that they're coming for you. But you don't have their plans or know when. Given that, are you really saying you'll take the chance?"

"He will." Henrietta declared for him, stepping forward to stand beside Prince Wales. "And so will I, Sakuya. Please, it is in everyone's best interest for us to cooperate now. I do trust that Lord Mortimer," she nodded to the Salamander, "I suggesting a workable solution."

Casting a suspicious look at the Salamander, Sakuya exhaled. "I think I already know how you feel about this Morgiana?"

"Sorry I can't make it more obvious." The Spriggan closed her eyes. "This sounds panties on head retarded by the way. But if you insist on leaving your asses flapping in the breeze, at least let me be there as back up."

A sound decision, Argo noted. Most people wouldn't be able to tell by looking at her, but Morgiana had earned her title as the Phantom Queen of the Spriggans, her Illusion Mastery compensating for an otherwise weak magical arsenal. That also meant she was amply acquainted with every dirty trick in Rip Jack's assassination kit.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Wales assured.

"What about you, Alicia?" Sakuya glanced over to her closest ally.

The Cait was always hard to read, what was real, and what was fake in Alicia was always hard to tell, and today was no exception. Still, she smiled wanly and answered. "Honestly, I'm siding with you on this Sakuya-chan. But Tristain is hosting us, so I think we should compromise on this like Mortimers says." She pinched her fingers together. "Just a _little_."

"I see." Sakuya didn't bother asking Mortimer's opinion, it wasn't like he would back down after suggesting it. "I'll take responsibility to inform the other Lords. In the mean time, I'll have Morgiana and her Spriggans sent along at once." Under her breath, so low that even Argo had to strain to hear it. "I really hope this is worth it."

"Thank you, Sakuya." Henrietta bowed her head. "If that is all for now. We can talk more about this when you return to the Capital in a few days. Hopefully things will have improved by then."

"We'll begin preparations on our end." Captain Hammond reported giving his own small nod as the moonlight mirror grew brighter, return to an opaque silver oval before shattering into a cloud of jagged lights and fading from existence, the enforced shadows around the border of the room lightening.

There was an almost perceptible sagging of shoulders as everyone realized what had just happened. But there was no time to pause.

"Morgiana, I trust you can be discrete?" Sakuya gave her fellow Lord an imploring look that almost managed to reign in the Spriggan's anticipation.

Morgiana looked to be torn between brushing the question off or answering directly. Instead she did neither. "It's bound to be a fluid situation when it comes down to it. One way or another, I think I should be there."

"I'd like to go too." After being silent throughout most of the meeting, Kirito stepped forward. "It was short, but I've fought against Rip Jack before. I'll have an idea of what tricks to look out for."

"And you'd make a good last line of defense." Morgiana appraised as she looked the Black Swordsman over from head to toe. "Mind if we borrow this one, Sakuya?"

"I won't protest if you're volunteering." Sakuya leaned back in her chair. "Anything that improves the odds of success."

"While we're on the subject of the investigation team." Mortimer commented. "We have some work of our own to do rooting out spies and leaks."

There was that look again, Sakuya glaring at Mortimer. If Argo hadn't known better, she'd have thought they had something personal going on. But given those two conflicting personalities, it was anyone's guess what had set them off this time.

"No tricks. I would simply like it looked into." Mortimer raised a hand to forestall Sakuya's protests. "Miss Argo, would you be so kind?"

"Eh?"

"I said, if you would be so kind, I would like for you to go forward with your investigation of Rio and his Guild."

"Oh. Sure." Even with the bombshell bursting right over their heads, Mortimer was right. If Rio knew things about Rip Jack, then tracing back the source of that info was a high priority. It might reveal and intelligence leak on their end. As impossible as that might have seemed. Then again, Rip Jack. It might even lead to some info that could help in the here and now.

"Good." Mortimer nodded. "Then I'll leave you and Jensen to it."

"Right . . . wait what?"

The Salamander Lord was already nearly to the door when he regarded her from the corner of one eye. "He is part of the investigation team as well, Miss Argo, and an actual police detective. Perhaps if you two could learn to work together . . ."

'Take your own advice.' Argo reluctantly turned to the tall Undine, dark blue hair and goatee looking professionally trimmed this morning, his gloss blue coat verging on formal wear. This was what she was expected to work with.

"Just great." She muttered.

"Just great ba!" Suisen mimicked.

The Undine didn't look any happier as they were let out into the hall, squeezing past guards in order to make for the landing. "Look, I know you aren't crazy about this. But," A pair of Gnomes, walking single file, but still so big as to take up most of the narrow hall, pushed them to the side, "But I really think we should be trying to work together. I asked Kirito earlier and . . ."

"And?" Argo asked back. Or more exactly, she snapped. She knew she wasn't being fair, and she didn't really care.

"And." Jensen reached up, and, with considerable care, removed the pair of sunglasses so that he could look her in the eye. "I want to talk. Why the hell you hate us so much?"


	23. Family Reunion

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 8 - Part 2

There was a kiosk just outside of Arrun Tower, originally a map shop manned by an NPC, the shop had been reopened by an enterprising Salamander who had wisely decided that what the couple hundred parchment pushers that amounted to the Arrun branch of the Faerie bureaucracy really wanted was a place to grab lunch and a cup of tea before getting back to work. He'd been right, and the Cafe Stream had been as successful with the Fae office crowd as the Dicey Cafe had become with the defense forces. In particular, the Fisherman's Eggs with black pepper were just about the best quick breakfast around. So good in fact that Argo had demanded Jensen buy two while she seated herself on a nearby bench.

This mess made her hungry, so that wasn't a lie, but mostly she just needed time, time to think. Something still smelled off to her. This whole plan, Rip Jack's actions, she'd thought that his revealing himself in Freelia might have been deliberate. But if it was, who had told him to do it? If he was working for Reconquista, what benefit did they get from killing two Sylphs and a Cait Syth?

The info was poring in now, they just needed to connect the dots and see where they pointed. But now they knew that they had a deadline. She really didn't need to be wasting time having this discussion right now. Maybe if they all skipped this touchy fealy crap and did their jobs, they could sniff out what stunk before it got someone else killed. And Jensen had to wonder why she didn't like him and his partner?

The Undine was coming back now with two small clay oven bowls sizzling with eggs baked over salted fish and onions. He set them down on the lip of the planter behind the bench on which Argo sat cross legged.

Curious, Suisen's nose twitched inquisitively as she caught the scent and set down gingerly on the edge of one of the bowls. Like her body, her tastes had grown after her blossoming, and where Argo would have once had to coax her to eat anything that didn't count as dessert, the Pixie Mouse Girl now happily devoured almost anything that was put in front of her.

While Suisen pulled at the fried edge of one of the egg whites, Jensen turned back to Argo. "Are you going to tell me now?"

"So curious about me." She stalled for a little more time. "Tis very unusual."

Tell him what? She felt the old resentment flaring up. She knew what he _wanted_ to hear. He wanted her to tell him she was angry, and hurt that her totally irrelevant expertise from a _video game_ had been ignored by trained investigators and her conspiracy theories had landed her a red mark on her record, and that because of it, she now had a chip on her shoulder big enough to build Aincrad on top of. Admit fault, tell them how sorry you were, be forgiven for the crime of being right.

Why did people have to be so stupid? So _lazy_. It was like the truth didn't really matter.

And really, it hadn't just been the police either, although they'd definitely been the worst. Her teachers, other students, even her parents as much as she loved and missed them. There was a reason she hadn't been on the friendliest terms with people IRL, preferring the company of other nominal loners, people who she could control her contact with. She looked up at the still waiting Jensen. Somehow, she thought he'd waint until Ragnarok for his answer. So much for that option.

"A little bird told me some of it. The rest he said I needed to ask you about." The Undine let his eyes drift to the people all around them. The breakfast crowd was already thinning.

"A little bird, huh?" Argo wondered. "Did that bird happen to be a crow?"

"You'd have to ask him yourself." Jensen said with his best poker face. The stoic routine. Argo was confident she wasn't going to be able to tease any more info out of _that_.

He wanted the whole story? Fine.

"Cops are a disgrace, you know that right?" She began, poking at one of the eggs until she'd cut out the yolk. The Undines eyes widened, but he didn't stop her. Maybe he thought she was trying to piss him off. But if he wanted to know. _Really_ wanted to know. This was how she was going to tell him. "You're supposed to protect people and stop crimes, but in the end you just write traffic tickets and cover the asses of the rich and powerful. Seems like it'd be easier to just join the Yakuza."

"Those are some strongly held convictions." Jensen noticed, taking the seat beside her. Oh joy, here it was, 'I'd like to hear all about it.' "Mind telling me about it?"

'Score.'

This was so stupid. She took a resigned breath. But if he was going to keep asking. "Let me put it to you another way." Argo held up a bit of egg that had baked itself around a piece of sardine-like fish and finely chopped onion. "Just how hard do you think the SAO Task Force was actually working to _rescue_ the three hundred players that weren't released from SAO?"

"I'm all ears." Jensen said levelly.

'This ought to be good.'

So she told him everything. The abridged version anyways. About what she'd found out, and about what had happened when she'd told the SAO task force. She had to give him credit, he listened, at or at least, he shut up and stayed quiet until she was finished. By then she was halfway through with breakfast, Suisen already done with her own portion, wiping her face with the hem of her napkin sized cloak.

"That's it?" The Undine asked.

"Pretty much." Argo said with a resigned shrug. "Tis not like the last week's given me any reason to think things have changed." Her lips twitched into a cynical smile. "Seems police are the same across the multiverse sa."

Jensen absorbed her last insult and then gave a small snort. "I gotta admit, it's like something out of a bad cyberpunk novel. Think the illuminate were involved too? " And thus was vindication bittersweet. Or so Argo thought until she very nearly choked on her next bite. "But it makes sense to me."

"Phht," Argo nearly gagged on her food, "You gotta be kidding me!" Go figure she'd find the one cop who'd believe her on another planet.

"What? You think I'm just saying that so you'll work with me?" Jensen wondered out loud. Rubbing at his eyes, the Undine sounded almost amused. "Yeah, it sounds completely impossible. But you know what? Yeah, I'd believe it. Compared to everything that's happened to_ us_, it's pretty easy to swallow. So that's what has you pissed? Can't say I blame you."

"Tis how tis sa." Argo mumbled.

"How it is ba!" Suisen mimicked in miniature.

Jensen's eyes switched between Cait and Pixie. "And can you get your creepy little mini me to stop that?" As one, Suisen and Argo tilted their heads. Grimacing, Jensen shook his head. "Never mind. Look, this is hard enough as it is. I can get behind why you might have some misgivings after something like that. And I guess we haven't exactly adapted gracefully to this new world. But remember that you're not the only one who got burned. Vakarian was my partner and he kept it from me, the same as everyone else."

Argo bit off a more spiteful retort. It wasn't that she didn't sympathize, she did, she _got_ betrayal. The problem was, did she really want to let this go? And if she didn't, could she work around it. "You wanna prove you're not one of those bozos?"

"Those bozos!" Suisen agreed. "The ones that upset Nee-chan!" The Pixie's wings fluttered with agitation.

"Not like I have anything to prove to you." Jensen grunted unhappily. "We're both out of our depth here. Honestly, having a head for facts and puzzles doesn't make you a detective, even if you've saved lives with it. No offense." The Undine took a deep breath. "And having Police training in modern Japan doesn't make me the right _type_ of detective." A hand reached out, open. "Really, neither of us are any good for this. But we're what we've got." Extending an open hand. "Truce? It'll make things a hell of a lot easier if we're really working together."

Argo gave the offered hand a look, was he for real? It seemed like a sudden turnaround from the brusk character he'd kept up before now. Suspiciously sudden. But . . . There were lives on the line here. And even if he was just humoring her, it was a hell of a lot more then she'd gotten from anyone else/

It was Suisen who decided it for her. "Nee-chan? What do you think?"

"Do I think?" Argo looked down at the anxious girl at her side.

"Un." She nodded seriously. "He's a suspicious character after all." Jensen rolled his eyes. "But Nee-chan is always right, so I'll trust her judgment."

Always right huh? If only. If she were always right then . . . then she'd always have known what to do, what to say. She wouldn't be here now, _Asuna and Kirito_ wouldn't be here now.

Reluctantly, Argo took Jensen's hand, squeezing as they shook. "You better live up to expectations. You've got a lot to convince me on."

Jensen rolled his eyes. "I think I can convince that cops aren't all bad."

"I meant Undines." Argo said with mock seriousness. "One of them jibbed me on some gear once." Although it hadn't been an entirely bad thing. Figuring out that particular game exploit and selling the info before RETCO patched it had made her a tidy sum. It was a shame her virtual fortunes hadn't made the transition with her.

"Alright then." Jensen said, reaching for the remaining bowl of eggs. "First order of business, how do we tease the truth out of Rio." Just as he was about to pick the bowl up, Argo's chopsticks poked into one of the eggs. The Undine's eyes narrowed. "You told me to get two."

"Yeah." Argo agreed. "I'm a growing girl after all. And flying all over Tristain tis hard work sa!"

"Exhausting ba!" Suisen agreed.

* * *

The Royal Palace once more. This wasn't Kirito's first time in the home of Tristain's Monarchs, he'd spent several days here along with Asuna and Yui, the first peaceful days in months, recovering from the aftermath of their flight from Newcastle. During that time, he'd met Queen Marianne of Tristain and received the personal thanks of Princess Henrietta herself as she fussed over a convalescent Prince Wales. Although he'd appreciated the gratitude, he still never really felt comfortable being here for one very petty reason.

It was his wardrobe. He felt under dressed. Black pants and shirt, black boots, and black long coat. Everything was clean, well maintained, and of the highest quality, the coat in particular, was a masterpiece that had taken him a week to hunt down and then haggle the maker down to a reasonable price. Even so, compared to the elaborate uniforms of the Palace Staff, it was like walking into an exclusive four star restaurant in his street clothes.

"Something on your mind?" The Swordswoman asked at his side. The guards had been expecting them, and almost as soon as they'd touched down in the South Eastern corner of the Palace grounds, they had been directed towards the East Wing by an accompanying valet.

"Just feeling a little out of place." He admitted. Even Caramella's well maintained mid tier army equipment, and the low profile armor warn by the Kurotaka fit in better among all of the Royal guards.

Caramella fixed him with a sympathetic look. "Tell me about it. This isn't exactly my kind of style ether. Not that we're here to be social or anything but . . ."

"We stick out like sore thumbs." Kirito finished.

"Y-yeah." Caramella shook her head. "Of course, that wouldn't be so bad if we weren't supposed to keep a low profile." Carrying her voice lower, Caramella leaned close. "Damn, I hate this. Why can't we just go grab the guy already? We can take'm this time!"

Caramella was probably right. Today, it wasn't just the two of them. But the problem was . . .

Morgiana hadn't been joking about putting together a team of her guild mates. A half dozen Spriggans made up the rest of their group, all of them looking uniformly dangerous in the company of their Leader, and Morgiana herself looking particular lethal as she stocked after the valet.

Kirito had fought some of the most dangerous bosses dreamed up by the mind of Kayaba Akihiko and the Cardinal System, he'd come out of some of those fights by the skin of his teeth, and only survived a few by dumb luck. He'd fought human bandits, and the very real monsters that had been realized in Tristain after the transition, and he had traded blows with Elite Mage Knights, aerial cavalry with magic and years of combat experience. He still wouldn't have dared to be in front of Morgiana at that moment.

"Shi." The gruff looking blonde Spriggan nearest to Kirito muttered under his breath.

"Shh, I know." Shirishi whispered back. Out of all of them, the beautiful Spriggan master of Darkness Magic was the only one who looked remotely well enough dressed to be at the Palace as anything but a guard or servant. "I talked to her about it earlier, so we're going to all make the best of this."

Even though Morgiana was well ahead of them, and definitely not paying any attention to the conversation at her back, her ear twitched. "What'dyou call me?"

The gathered Spriggans turned stiff, even Kirito. To say that this was a touchy subject for Morgiana was what could best be called the understatement of the century. The Morgiana that Kirito had met and gotten to know a little bit about, was not the Morgiana that stood in front of them now. The revelation about Rip Jack had made her restless, temperamental. Kirito thought he knew why. Among MMO players, there were those that took pride in their race, faction, or guild, and resented anyone who cast a shadow on their reputation. In a game, a person like Rip Jack could be hard to get along with at best and ruin his factions reputation at worse.

In reality, what he was doing now endangered every last Faerie in Halkegenia. For Morgiana, who had aimed to watch out for the other Spriggans and wanted above all else to protect them all, the fact that one of her own was a danger to everyone was an intolerable offense.

"Err, we were just . . ." Drake's eyes darted about, looking for something, anything to draw attention away from their blunder. Shirishi was way ahead of him pointing underhandedly at the Palace facade " . . . Talking about the architecture. Yeah, you know this whole place would be a museum back home . . ."

"Technically it would be a historical landmark, darling." Shirishi answered with a forced smile.

Another Spriggan woman spoke up, short cropped black hair, athletically built, Kirito thought her name was Marina. Adding in a calm, quiet voice, as if oblivious to her Guild Leaders mood. "The Palace is the tallest building around, and it sits on elevated ground. That tower behind the ballroom has good sight lines on the rest of the grounds. Hey Big Sis, can I go check it out?"

Morgiana turned her head, looking over her shoulder with a single dark eye. "Knock yourself out, just get permission first."

Hefting her absurdly oversized longbow, the Spriggan Markswoman broke off from the rest of the group, and more importantly, put herself as far as possible from ground zero. 'Why didn't I think of that?' Kirito wondered. Not that he didn't feel the same as Morgiana.

There was a threat to their survival on the lose, and Kirito's palms itched just thinking about it. Obviously they couldn't risk blowing Tristain's larger investigation, as bad as Jack was, he posed a much bigger threat in the context of whoever he was working for now. But that didn't make this a good idea, just the least bad one, and it definitely didn't make him any happier about it.

Looking back to Caramella, he whispered. "Let's just focus on what's in front of us for now." Otherwise they'd go insane.

A small, tired nod. "Yeah."

Kirito had spent a lot of time in around the Palace when he'd been here last, but this was his first time in the East wing, predominately reserved to house government offices, archives, and meeting rooms. Everything that the crown needed to administer its realm. The corridor was identical to the one that ran the length of the West Wing, but the doors opened onto rooms full of clerks and Royal Army officers busily at work rather than the drawing rooms and dining halls of Royal Apartments and guest quarters.

"Looks like Henrietta and her regent has everyone busy." Caramella noted as they made way for a stampede of palace staff, a meeting must be about to begin.

This definitely couldn't all be part of the ongoing investigation. The last thing the Crown would want to do was telegraph their intent by being that obvious. Instead, most of it was the very necessary work to ready the country for war. It didn't hurt, he realized, that with so much happening, nobody would have time to notice a few clerks or members of the Royal Guard assigned to odd tasks, much less work out what was what without having someone inside the investigation. Hiding a tree in the forest had never been more literal.

Even in the chaos, the valet knew where to take them, a side corridor that branched off from the grand hallway, opening into a small meeting room that overlooked the rose gardens. From the outside, the only sign that the room was occupied were a pair of female musketeers and a Manticore Knight holding an artifact similar to an appraiser's monocle. The man swept his monocle over each of the Spriggans, muttering under his breath.

Halkegenian magic had thus far had no success at detecting a mimicked Faerie. Maybe it was to make sure that one of them wasn't a mage in disguise, but the chances of that too were small since they had just arrived by flight from Arrun. It must have been standard procedure to search for spies rather than a special measure.

It was a problem that they still hadn't found a solution to. The Duchess de La Valliere had even gone so far as to make Kirito change back into his human disguise so that she could test out every method and artifact that she could think of. None of them had worked. But Spriggan illusion masters could, if not dispel the Mimic spell, at least tell if it was being used by a particular person or in general by somebody in their vicinity.

And that was why the Spriggans had been brought here. To make sure that no matter what happened, Rip Jack wouldn't be able to escape again.

The Knight gave a small nod, and waved for the musketeers to allow them past. Kirito took one step through the door, right behind Drake and Shirishi, and then stopped in his tracks.

His heart raced the moment he saw her. Of course, he'd known that she was at the Palace, and he'd been dreading what was coming his way. But he hadn't expected it would be quite like this. Which was actually pretty stupid for him. He should have known her better than that.

'Asuna.'

On the far side of the room, standing silhouetted against the windows, the Lightning Flash was looking out on the garden beyond, exchanging comments with Prince Wales Tudor who still walked with the assistance of a cane, even after weeks of recuperation and hundreds of hours in the care of trained water mages.

Kirito's first instinct had been to call her that, Lightning Flash, because at that moment she was definitely not just every day Asuna who spent her spare time cooking and doted on her adopted daughter. The white long coat was on, the rapier resting on her hip. Then his spirits plummeted as he fully comprehended what this meant.

Asuna turned at the noise from the door, their eyes met, a silent conversation traded without a single word. Just the way she looked at him, the subtle changes in expression, how long she starred, carried her intent perfectly, it could almost have been an Outside System Skill.

'I am getting involved. This is not negotiable. We'll talk afterwords. We'll _talk_ afterwords.'

The look wasn't lost on Caramella either as she put a sympathetic hand on Kirito's shoulder. "Good luck with that Kirito-kun." Yeah, he was going to need a lot more than luck . . .

After that surprise, the other people in the room were more or less who he had expected. There was Captain Hammond of the Manticore Knights, senior commander of the Royal Guard, and Lieutenant Agnes of the Musketeer Corps, the person leading the investigation that had uncovered Rip Jack while investigating a corrupt tax official. Both officers looked like they had been in the middle of a heated conversation just before the doors had been opened and stood quickly to

Lastly, Princess Henrietta and Cardinal Mazarin had seated themselves at the head of the table. As the target of a kidnapping attempt, it made sense that the Princess and her Regent would want to hear what would be done to keep her safe.

"Lady Morgiana, assuring as always to see that the Faerie Lords take these matters seriously." Captain Hammond and the Lieutenant bowed deeply as the Lady of the Spriggans swept into the room, stopping only long enough to hand her spear off to the Spriggan behind her.

"Yeah, charmed." Morgiana said, taking a seat before the valet could offer one. "Look, I know why the formalities are important and everything, but right now, my blood's about to boil over. So could we skip all of that just this once and get to why we're here?"

Kirito had to hold back a whistle, something that Caramella failed to do. He'd known that the Spriggan Faction Leader had a reputation for being blunt in ALfheim Online, but this was on a whole other level.

Captain Hammond was taken aback by the comment and the Lieutenant at his side seemed torn between glaring and looking offended. Prince Wales merely chuckled under his breath. "I must admit, candor is one of the more admirable qualities of the Fae. Wouldn't you agree, Captain?"

"I . . ." The Manticore Knight grimaced, he obviously didn't agree at all, but he wasn't going to say that in the presence of a Prince and the Princess. "As you say Prince Wales. It will certainly save time if nothing else." Spreading an arm to the table. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."

"Caramella, Kirito." Wales smiled in greetings. "I'm grateful that you were able to take part in this. I can think of no one better among the Fae to help us now."

Kirito grinned weakly. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but we're probably the two who are least useful for something like this." Even after weeks of practice, neither of them had advanced their magic very far, definitely not far enough to have a handle on the complex spells they'd need.

"Please don't sell yourself short." Wales warned encouragingly. "Never underestimate the value of an added line of defense my friend. Especially when that line is someone you know you can trust."

"And now, to cut to the chase as I'm sure you would like to say." Cardinal Mazarin met Morgiana's eyes. Mazarin must have been more of a presence than Kirito had given him credit for, or maybe it was his grandfatherly appearance. Whatever it was, Morgiana began to settle down until the only sign of her ongoing agitation was a steady tapping against the surface of the table.

"Very well." Captain Hammond held a chair for Wales before taking his own seat. "The matter at hand, the assassination and kidnapping plot that has been uncovered thanks to the Lieutenant's diligent work. Lieutenant, if you could give us your current report?"

"Yes sir. Thank you sir." The sever blonde woman stood up from her seat. "Although it has only been six hours since our last communications, I have received further details from our operatives in the field that may shed further light on the conspiracy and . . ."

"Lieutenant." Captain Hammond interrupted. "You were invited here because of your exceptional service to the Kingdom." Hammond said quietly. "There is no need for you to stand."

"I . . . Yes Sir." The musketeer sank back down into her seat, expression perplexed. "As I was saying with the help of Miss Louise de La Valliere and the huntress KoKo of the Cait Syth, we were able to attain some insight that might tell us more about the conspiracy."

"You said she was working at an inn earlier. So that's where Louise has gotten off to." Henrietta thought out loud. "Do tell me you don't have her doing anything too dangerous, Lieutenant."

'Louise?' Kirito wondered, crossing his arms as he thought hard about that name. Was it the same Louise? Now that he thought about it, it almost had to be. Strange he hadn't heart much from the Germanian recently, her reports had dropped off, but she hadn't admitted to finding nothing . . . It might just be a coincidence, then again, he'd have to search them out and ask later.

Agnes shook her head. "Do not worry Princess, we've had the inn she has been working at under constant surveillance. I understand her importance as the youngest daughter of the Valliere family and your childhood friend. And she has done more than enough besides. Thanks to their work, we now have reason to suspect that de'Martou is being used to smuggle supplies and Reconquista operatives into the country through his black market contacts."

"The war taxes that the Crown has been levying will have encouraged more illicit trafficking." Cardinal Mazarin observed. "I doubt even de'Martou's own partners would suspect anything is amiss if he started to shipping more in and out of the country."

"Our thoughts exactly." The Lieutenant agreed. "In fact, we think that there is a very good chance that he is directly involved in the Kidnapping plot, although it's doubtful he knows any details."

"If they're going to Kidnap the Princess, then eventually they're going to need to get her out of the country." Asuna deduced.

"Or at least out of the Capital. Successful or not, they'd have to be fools to think an attempt on the Princess wouldn't stir up a hornets nest." Agnes corrected, giving the Princess a worried look. Henrietta simply smiled bravely. "Miss Valliere and Miss KoKo have also discovered another lead, a logo or coat of arms of some kind that traded hands between de'Martou and Mister Janglers."

"A coat of arms?" Captain Hammond asked. "You mean the one in their report?"

"Yes Sir. I intend to follow up on this as quickly as possibly. I still believe that de'Martou is our best lead to the Leaders of Reconquista's conspiracy and the discovery of Mister Janglers proves it. He may be too foolish to put together the pieces, but that doesn't mean we can't."

"If it raps things up so that we can go take down Rip Jack, I say you should get to it." Morgiana chimed in. "I don't like it. Every minute he's left free is another minute that things can go wrong."

Captain Hammond looked at Morgian unhappily. "I assure you Lady Morgiana, the Manticore Knights and Musketeers will have this matter well in hand shortly. Both the Princess and Prince Wales have entrusted their lives to our safe keeping and . . ."

"Yeah, that's nice and all." Morgiana cut in. "But it's your job to worry about the Prince and Princess, I've got to worry about sixty thousand other lives that need looking after." She tossed a nod in the direction of the two royals. "No offense you two."

"None taken." Wales assured, lacing his hands before him.

"Are you questioning the competence of the Royal Guards?" Lieutenant Agnes asked. It was a calm voice, but it was calm in that forced way that only someone very close to anger could be.

"I'm questioning if we aren't walking into one disaster to avoid another." Morgiana said. "Or to put it another way, aren't you also worried about the million and a half other lives that will be in danger either way if Reconquista manages to throw this monkey wrench into our alliance?"

"Monkey . . ." Wales whispered.

" . . . Wrench?" Henrietta finished.

"Turn of phrase." Morgiana shrugged.

"It isn't that we aren't concerned." Captain Hammond struck the table with his index finger. "But we are walking a narrow path, and the abyss lays to either side. We'll be no better off if Reconquista still holds a dagger to our back while they brandish swords to our front. The assassination plot is known, your assassin can be followed and contained."

"We're already arranging a suitable cover if we need to move in." Lieutenant Agnes agreed. "Using Miss Valliere's investigation into the illegal poaching of ALfheim fauna . . ."

"You mean the kidnappings?" Henrietta's expression turned melancholic. "Those poor girls . . ."

"The Kidnappings." Agnes corrected herself. "We can simply follow her train of evidence to de'Martou's home at any time. Naturally, we'll have to make sure the right people hear what we intend before hand. We simply won't give them the time to send a warning."

"Rip Jack gets caught with a bunch of smugglers and the conspirators are none the wiser." Morgiana finished. "I like it. Why don't we just do that now?"

Captain Hammond sighed. "Because, as much as we might like to, it will look suspicious if the conspirators are given too much time. And even if it does not alert them, it will cause their patterns to change. I'd really much rather apprehend them just prior to the attempt. Easier to make it appear bad luck."

"Quick question." Caramella raised a hand beside Kirito.

Agnes frowned as she looked Caramella over. "Yes?"

"Now I just heard about all of this this morning, and this seems crazy, but these guys have already tried to pull up Wale's number, and they've done a pretty good job of it lately."

Wales winced, one hand rising to his chest.

"So, whose to say they're only going to try this with one assassin?" Caramella raised her hands. "If I were them, and my last sure thing assassination failed, I'd be thinking bigger this time."

The room fell deathly silent as everyone processed this bit of information. The possibility really couldn't have escaped the attention of the Royal guards. Could it? Kirito had assumed they would know all of the angles to cover. This sort of thing was their job after all, it would be bad if Caramella had pointed out something that hadn't occurred to them.

"It has occurred to us that Rip Jacks primary contributing factor might be his simple participation in a high visibility assassination and kidnapping." Captain Hammond admitted. "It is entirely possible the actual attempt is planned to be made by someone else entirely. But unless we can uncover more about the nature of the plot, we'll simply have to prepare for everything. Our one advantage is that we know that this attack is coming, we will not be caught off guard this time."

"We have to worry about the known threats first." Agnes agreed. "And trust our other measures to protect against the unknown element."

"So basically, this plan still isn't even close to perfect, but we're going to go with it anways." Morgiana finished for them. "Absolutely fantastic!"

"We've decided on this course of action," Captain Hammond said, "Because it is better the devil we know than the one we don't."

"Then lets hedge out bets a bit right now." Morgiana leaned forward, face fit to scare off a dragon.

Cardinal Mazarin quirked his brow. "What do you have in mind, Lady Morgiana."

"You said it's better the devil we know? Well, we know Rip Jack, and your guys know your Conspirators. So lets put my Spriggans to good use on your stakeout and put a couple on Wales and Henrietta's guard details right now."

"A sound decision," the old Regent decided, "Wouldn't you agree, Captain Hammond?"

The Captain looked at the Spriggans, others seated at the table or standing behind Morgiana. Kirito knew that look well, the lack of confidence that came from looking at someone who appeared thoroughly unimpressive. He'd gotten that look plenty of times before. Captain Hammond hadn't been part of the Newcastle Evacuation or the York Raid, so while he'd probably read the reports, it would be hard to connect the bravery of those Spriggans with the undisciplined looking group surroudning their Leader.

"I can trust them to obey orders?" Hammond asked.

"Sure." Morgiana said with a neutral set to her voice and expression. "As long as the orders aren't stupid. We'll even wave the up front fee."

The Captain grimaced.

"That was a joke by the way." Morgiana added. "Now then, who to put where . . . I should probably take Shime and Name-chan with me to keep on eye on their hideout. So Drake, Shirishi, and Marina will stay here and bolster your guards." Morgiana looked thoughtful. "If we need more I could bring in the rest of the guild and . . ."

"No, that should be enough." Wales warned. "I know you Spriggans can take on disguises. But too many new faces would raise the alarm and risk a change in our enemy's plans. We have safety in knowing something of Reconquista's intentions, we mustn't jeopardize that."

Asuna raised her hand, here it came, what he'd know was coming as soon as he'd stepp into the room. "I would also like to volunteer for the guard detail, if it's alright." Knowing what was going to say didn't stop Kirito from trying to rise from his seat, but Caramella's hand on his shoulder stopped him. A small shake of the head.

In the end, it was Wales who asked instead, looking as worried as Kirito felt. "Asuna, are you sure? I thought you prescribed rest for battle fatigue?"

Asuna very carefully avoided looking Kirito or Wales in the eye. She shook her head. "No . . . yes . . . It's complicated. But I don't think I'd be able to forgive myself if I stood by and let something happen. That would be even worse. Especially now." Speaking with growing determination, Asuna looked Kirito straight in the eye. It was the same hard intensity she'd had in Aincrad. "And for everyone's sake, until we know it's safe, I want to do my part."

"I see . . ." Wales trailed off. "Then, I can see no reason to deny it."

"Good." Morgiana answered up. "Because everything I've heard, she's as much of a monster in a fight as Kirito over here." Kirito bristled at the unwelcome pat on the back. Not that it was Morgiana's fault. "Hey, Kirito, want to keep an eye on a Princess and make sure she doesn't end up in another castle?"

Eyes still locked with Asuna, he knew he was already defeated, Kirito sighed. Thinking logically, if this did turn into a last ditch defense at close range, the two best suited were him and Asuna. "I guess it's for the best then."

"Then we'll place you on Princess Henrietta's guard detail." Captain Hammond said. "Along with the other Spriggans and our own guards, that should be an effective deterrent."

Henrietta smiled warmly. "I hope it isn't too much, but please take care of me as well as you did Wales, Mister Kirito." She was still smiling as Kirito let himself settle further into his seat. At least this one was already spoken for.

* * *

Crawling on her hands and knees, squirming through bushes, and then nimbly scaling the trunk of a young maple tree she'd scouted out earlier, Kirigaya Yui looked around cautiously from her new vantage point. As she had suspected, from here, she was obscured from view from all sides except directly below, and she was guarded in that direction by the manicured bushes of the palace gardens. Satisfied, Yui settled in to see if her efforts would be enough. She didn't have long to wait.

Facing a hedgerow on the far side of the garden, Emily finished counting down in a loud, clear voice. "Three . . . two . . . one . . . Ready or not, here I come!"

Turning around, the young Countess of Windsor craned her neck to and fro, searching her surroundings for any sign of Yui. The former Mental Health AI, now a very real little girl, felt a squirming feeling of Delight as she realized that, while Emily was quite meticulously checking the hedges and bushes, it hadn't occurred to Emily to look up into the trees.

But she did feel a little bad about it. After all, she'd promised not to cheat by turning into a Pixie to hide out of reach. While she hadn't technically broken that promise, she'd probably violated its Spirit by climbing the tree. Of course, Yui thought, she'd have to apologize to Emily, just after she won the game.

It was just that Emily was so nice, and the two of them had been having a lot of fun together. Despite being an adult, Emily was happy to play with her, even when she got odd looks from the servants and other Nobles. More importantly, it kept Emily from thinking about her own troubles.

It hadn't taken very long to learn everything she needed to know about Emily Florence Windsor, the exiled Countess of Windsor and one of Mama's good friends. It had taken her only slightly longer to realize something was painfully wrong with the kind, gentle woman who had greeted her and Mama so warmly and treated Yui herself with the patience and adoration of an older sibling.

Her immediate family were all recently dead, her home taken from her by the same people who had tried to kill her only to be saved at the very last instant by Mama and her Knights of Blood. The stress and loss that Emily had experienced in the last few months would have been overwhelming, easily a match for what Mama and Papa had gone through.

The mere thought of losing her own family was enough to send Yui sputtering into near catatonia for minutes at a time, biochemical surges of Fear mingling with a mind wracking series of error signals within her Primary Binary Logic Cluster. She could only speculate at how Emily was able to cope with it.

A few of the Palace servants gave the odd Noblewoman wandering through the flowerbeds a second glance, and then thought better of interfering. It seemed she'd caught on to just how small Yui was, even in her human form. But she was still looking in the wrong direction. Pouting in frustration, the young mage reached for her wand and then shook her head. Good, Yui thought, using magic would be cheating!

On the outside Emily seemed to be managing incredibly well. Better even than Mama who had made strides in the past three weeks, the minor manifestations of her traumas met and carefully dismantled as they bubbled to the surface one by one.

But Yui was still, at her core, an intelligence meant to carefully examine and dissect human behavior. Even if her prognosis were not perfect and she was further hampered by a lack of access to the high fidelity information available through a Nerve Gear or AMUsphere, she was more than up to the task of extended, unobtrusive study.

Yui had learned by observation that humans rarely expressed themselves perfectly to one another. Sometimes this was deliberate, and sometimes they were even fooling themselves. Looking beneath the surface persona of Emily Windsor told a very different story than that of the face she projected to the world.

Put simply, Yui had been forced to conclude that Emily was mildly delusional.

It was manifesting fairly harmlessly for now, but the symptoms were still worrying. Mention of her family or home almost always elicited a change of subject, Avoidance which was not at all out of the ordinary, but the topic inevitably turned to fiction such as romantic literature or mythology.

She particularly favored the Faerie Lore of Albion and even Mama wasn't oblivious to the way that Emily constantly, almost obsessively, tried to draw parallels between the players turned Fae and the story book tales. It didn't end there either. Consistently, Emily showed symptoms of mild Euphoria when in the presence of Faeries, a phenomena that was frequently observed in spiritualist gatherings and cult followings.

If left untreated, her symptoms could set up a self reinforcing loop of malignant behavior, and as a Young Noblewoman with ample monetary resources and little supervision, it would be very easy for Emily to indulge her fixation until it became an obsession harmful to her ongoing mental health. For now the symptoms were manageable, and she was kept busy by her immersing herself in work, but it couldn't stay that way forever.

"Yui oh Yui, where are you?" Emily sang softly as she crept about beneath the Tree, still totally unaware that Yui was hiding just above her head. "Where could she have run off to . . . She wouldn't leave the garden . . . would she?"

Yui didn't want to see someone so nice have something that bad happen to them. Nobody should ever lose themselves like that. Fortunately, Emily hadn't had very long to reinforce her delusion and it didn't appear to originate from an underlying psychosis.

In the end, her fixations were the result of Escapism, something that Yui had been very carefully designed to treat. A strong association had been built up between Negative Reality and Positive Fantasy as a result of the loss of her family at the hands of the Albion Rebels and her rescue and subsequent good fortunes thanks to the Faeries.

She could still be helped as long as she wasn't confronted directly, a measure that would almost certainly trigger feelings of Persecution and Denial.

Therefore, the best way to help her was to deconstruct the complex that she had started to build around the Faeries. Mama in particular was a subject of this Hero Worship and so made the best candidate to help. Yui's time spent with Mama and Emily had thus been dedicated to prodding them both into mundane activities together, cooking, reading, and most importantly, talking.

Mama telling her and Emily about her day to day life in Japan had helped both of them more than either knew. For Mama, telling Emily about her past gave her further closure on the life that she had lost, maybe forever. For Emily, hearing about the mundane helped to reinforce that Mama wasn't really a Faerie Princess, and encourage her too talk about her own family and life prior to the rebel conquest of Albion.

They'd already made a little progress. Haltingly at first, Emily had told them about her father, the last Count of Windsor. Even though it had been painful, it had become clear very quickly that Emily was remembering fond memories and not dwelling on the loss and grief that had caused her to shy away into fantasy in the first place.

But Yui knew that while this was good, it wasn't nearly enough. Emily needed constant reinforcement, not just the sporadic care that Yui could provide whenever she and Mama visited. But there was no institution in Tristain suited to providing psychiatric care.

Yui's task had always been to make informal diagnosis, enact basic psychiatric care, and encourage players to log out and seek help from a human specialist for more severe problems. Even in Japan, where such things were rarely acknowledged, much less diagnosed, there had been measures taken to treat mental illness and a growing movement to talk about such things in public.

But Halkegenia barely even had a concept of Mental Illness. The most severe cases were simply labeled as Dementia or Battle Fatigue while lesser conditions were hardly acknowledged to exist, attributed to minor and incurable defects of the mind.

It was intolerable, Barbaric! Yui thought. He chest ached when she dared to even think about it.

A clump of bushes near the far side of the garden rustled, causing Emily to turn to investigate. Smile widening, the mage crept slowly closer until she was right on top of the offending shrub. "I." She whispered softly. "Found you!" With a surprisingly athletic leap, Emily bounded over a dividing footpath only to find that the source of the noise, rather than Yui, turned out to be a small cream colored rabbit with long, flopping ears.

Ragout Rabbit Yui identified, hardly having to think about the bestiary information she had digested even before the transition. It was interesting to note that the less obtrusive ALfheim fauna had already made it as far as the grounds of the Royal Palace. Releasing a small squeal, the frightened mob dashed out of sight as quickly as it had been revealed, leaving a disappointed Emily empty handed.

"She's really good at this." Yui heard Emily say to herself. Thinking out loud, "Now, if I were a little girl again, where would I hide?" Head tilting upward, Emily began to smile again as she looked up at the trees.

Drat! Yui thought quickly. If she got caught, it would bring her perfect winning streak to an end! Emily had begun her examination with the nearby trees, she'd just have to hope that she'd move away and give her an opening to make a run for Safe. With her shorter limbs, it would be tough to sprint there before Emily saw her and caught up, she'd have to hit the ground running.

That was when Yui's ears piqued at the sound of two familiar voices. Just in time! Grabbing hold of the branch she'd been sitting on, Yui swung down so that her feet dangled a meter and half from the ground and then let go, landing on her hands and knees. Emily saw her almost at once and got ready to cut her off. It was now or never. And so Yui broke into a run, in the opposite direction.

"Wait, Yui! Where are you going?" Emily was already running after her, definitely not about to let her escape. But her goal wasn't very far off now. Bursting through a narrow archway to the surprise of one of the Palace Garden workers, and then climbing over a low wall, they were closing in fast, and Yui would be there to meet them.

A loud clanking started up behind her, a glance over her shoulder revealed a pair of chibi Knights chasing after her, Emily's golems in hot pursuit. Since Yui wasn't playing by the rules anymore, Emily wasn't either. Luckily, while the little constructs were strong and tireless, they weren't very fast or particularly nimble. Yui hopped across a bed of gravel, the small stones pocking at her feet through the thin soles of her shoes, but she didn't trip of slow down much as she turned and began to parallel the stone bed.

The Knights weren't so lucky. They hit the gravel surface running, and then when they tried to stop themselves to turn, they slid, badly. The first almost managed to catch itself before the second barreled into it, sending both tumbling.

On one hand, it was amazing that magic could animate stone and metal the way it did. On the other, even mages with lots of practice were usually pretty clumsy.

Yui was so focused on her back that she almost lost track to her front. Emily had taken advantage of her golems to cut ahead of Yui, bursting into her path now.

"Ha!" Emily shouted triumphantly. "Ha?" And then a sound of surprise as Yui dove past her, Emily never actually managing to tag her. It was too late now, one more turn and Yui leaped forward.

"Papa!" She shouted, eyes closed, trusting completely as she was caught from the air and taken into a big hug.

Her Mama and Papa both smiled down at her with expressions of open joy and for a brief moment Yui allowed herself to bask in the sense of Guiltless Bliss that she felt when she was at the bright center of her parents' attention.

"Yui." Her Papa set her down gently. "How have you been the last couple of days? Did I miss anythin good?"

"Mmm mmm." Yui shook her head quickly. "Well . . . Me and Mama played lots of Games with Emily-san and Princess Henrietta, and Mama beat the Manticore Knight Captain at fencing, it was really fun!"

"I bet it was." Suddenly, Yui was worried, Papa was smiling, but now that her elation was fading, she could tell from subtle muscle tension and the way that his face was flushed that it wasn't entirely a happy expression.

And now Papa had noticed that she had noticed, he scratched his cheek nervously. "It's nothing, really." It was such an obvious tell that anyone could have picked up on it.

Yui crossed her arms in annoyance. "Papa is hiding something." It better not be that he'd gotten the attention of another girl. Papa only belonged with Mama!

"Yui-chan, it's nothing, really." Mama assured her, but she was doing the same thing. They weren't telling her the truth.

Yui's expression soured. "You know I can tell when you're lying!" She said very loud and clearly. "So you should just be honest." Really, that was best, Yui didn't know why humans always had to make things some complicated. People were complicated enough when they weren't telling lies intentionally.

Her parents squirmed as she waited patiently for an answer, tapping her foot in anticipation.

"Well, its . . . uhm . . ." Papa fumbled.

"That's a very good question Yui-chan, but . . ." Mama was cut off as Emily finally caught up.

"You're not . . . huff . . . getting away Yui!" Stumbling around the corner, face damp with sweat, and panting a little harder than was entirely healthy, the young Countess was already extending a hand to tag her when she realized who she was with. "Ah, Asuna . . . and Sir Kirito!" She stammered, caught between reach for Yui and politely standing her ground.

"Good afternoon Emily-san." Papa greeted, his smile only fading a little as he looked over the noblewoman, hair in disarray, and dress covered in garden leaves and flow petals. "Uhm, did something happen?"

"Oh!" Emily looked down at herself, and then shook her head quickly, eager to explain. "No, no, no! We were just playing a little game!"

"Un." Yui agreed. "Mama left me with Emily-san before she went to meet with everyone, so I thought we could spend some time outside." There was nothing wrong with staying inside and reading, but variety was always good, and it really was a nice day out.

"What sort of game were you playing, Yui-chan?" Mama asked, leaning down so that there eyes were level. "I hope you didn't give Emily-san too hard of a time."

Yui shook her head. "We were playing hide and seek, but Emily-san hasn't managed to catch me even once." Grabbing hold of Papa's arm, Yui spun around to hid behind her father. "Oh, and Mama and Papa count as Safe!" It hadn't been part of the rules, but really, it only made sense if she thought about it.

Emily looked crestfallen, although Yui didn't think she was actually that hurt about losing. Good, she didn't want to encourage any negative feelings between them! Instead, Emily simply straightened out her blouse with a reluctant sigh. "I guess that means you win again Yui. But next time I get to pick the game, okay?"

"That's okay." Yui agreed, her face scrunching up hard. "But, uhm, you're not very good at these sorts of games. And I beat you already at all the card games you and Wales-san taught me."

Emily's smile widened. "That's okay Yui, I know lots more games that that, and I bet I can find one you'll have to try hard to beat me at."

Yui just smiled politely, she didn't think Emily really _understood_ how differently her mind and senses worked. In fact, these sorts of games were the toughest for her by far since she had to rely on the abilities of her biological body. Yui tilted her head contemplatively. Even though she had some unique abilities, her physical capabilities weren't really any different than those of a normal human child.

Emily's smile faded into worry as she looked back to Mama. "By the way, Asuna, how did the meeting go. Are the Fae going to send more guards?"

Shaking her head slowly, Yui couldn't miss the slight spiking in her Mama's pulse and breathing, or the matching one from Papa. This must have been what they'd been trying to keep from her.

"It was agreed that bringing in more Faeries is probably a bad idea." Mama spoke softly, eyes closing, her hand reached to rest on the hilt of the rapier she'd originally bought just to practice with. "We don't want the conspirators to catch wind of things and change their plans."

"Then . . . Wales and Henrietta?" Emily asked. "What about them?"

Papa answered this time, crossing his arms. "The Faerie Lords aren't going to send any more guards, but we did come with some Spriggans, including Lady Morgiana herself. And I'll also be keeping watch over Princess Henrietta."

The Young Countess bowed her head. "Oh, what a relief. I'd been worrying that . . . Well . . . I obviously have nothing to worry about." She frowned as she looked back to Mama. "But then, Asuna, what about you?"

Papa gave Mama a look, it was a look that it took Yui a moment to identify. Usually it was Mama giving it to Papa. So it was strange to see it used differently.

"I'll be doing the same protecting Wales." Mama explained quietly. "It was decided just now. Since I was already visiting you and Wales, it won't be suspicious if I stay around for a while longer. And the Spriggans all know how to disguise themselves so nobody will even know that they're here."

"Protecting Wales?" Emily asked. "This is wonderful news, and I'm glad to hear it. But Asuna, didn't you say that . . ."

"Emily." The voice of Prince Wales echoed from the vantage of an elevated walk as he beckoned for his cousing with one hand.

"I should probably go see what that troublesome boy needs now." She smiled apologetically, making a small dipping motion towards Mama and Papa. "Anyway's, I'm sure Yui has lots she want to tell her father." She gave Yui a particularly Mischievous wink that made the young girl think that Emily herself hadn't acted out much in her childhood. "I'll see you all tonight at dinner, won't I?"

"We'll see." Mama said cautiously, holding her smile until Emily was out of earshot.

Asking in the most innocent voice she could manage, Yui knew that her parents couldn't resist. "So what were you saying before, Mama?" Mama, not usually one to hide her feelings, pressed her lips tightly together as if trying to stop a secret from getting out. "You didn't tell Papa like you said you would." She concluded at last.

As if her words had given him strength, Papa suddenly added. "That's right. Didn't Yui say you shouldn't be . . ."

"Kirito!" Mama turned to face him, and for around one hundred millicseconds, Yui was really worried, worried that something bad was about to happen between her parents.

Of course, they'd had fights before, when they thought Yui couldn't hear. But it was natural for spouses to express themselves and to even argue at times. Relationships were supposed to be inherently Reciprocal in nature and arguments were part of the process of communication and mutual respect. But right now, Mama looked really angry, _was_ really angry.

"How could you bring Yui-chan into this? This is my decision Kirito-kun!" Her Mama glared at her Papa, just _daring_ him to reply.

"And what about you being Wales' bodyguard and following him everywhere?" Papa met her glare with an angry look of his own. "Did you think I'd by okay with that?" Mama took a step back, blinking rapidly. Papa's face turned read Embarrassment. "Wait, that came out wrong." Shaking his head angrily. "But you know what I mean. Asuna . . ." Hands reaching out, he grabbed onto Mama's wrist, closing one slender hand in his own.

The silence last for a full nine thousand six hundred and fifty one milliseconds during which time Yui launched an exhaustive series of social scripts in an effort to predict likely outcomes and Prepare for the Worst.

"Kirito-kun." Mama used her quiet, stern voice, the one that she only used on Papa when he was being difficult. The anger was already fading fast, now it was just worry. "I'm really glad that you care so much. But I've been thinking a lot over the last couple of weeks." Pulling her hand out of Papa's grip, she switched with him, cupping his hand in her own. "Everything that's happened, all of it, so many terrible things."

The faint tremble in Mama's voice was like shattering glass to Yui's ears, and she had to work hard for it not to make her chest ache just thinking about it.

"I'm genuinely grateful that there are other people, you, and Klein, and all of the others who are carrying the burden too." Mama shook her head sadly. "But to tell the truth, closing my eyes, pretending that all of this isn't happening. I can't stand it, not while you're still fighting."

Papa's shoulders sank down. "I just don't want to see you in danger again. I only just got you back and . . . "

And Papa was scared, Yui realized, he was scared just the same as she had been when Mama had told her what she was planning. But that was okay. Yui could understand that fear now, and she would help Papa with it as best she could.

Mama laid a single finger gently against Papa's lips. "And if something happens to Wales or Henrietta, we'll all be in much more danger. I couldn't live with myself if I could stop that and didn't. That's just how I feel about it, and I'm not going to change my mind, Kirito-kun."

Papa turned his head away, noticeably unhappy with the way this argument had gone. Yui was certain that he wanted to say more, but he wouldn't right now, which just meant the argument would flare up again later. Yui shook her head, she wasn't going to let that happen.

"Papa," Yui reach out for her father's other hand, "Mama talked to me a lot before deciding. I don't like it either, but I think it's really important for her to do this." Because . . . Because Yui wanted her Mother to be whole again.

As the former MHCP AI in the game world of SAO, Yui knew almost everything there was to know about her parents' time in Aincrad. In fact, it had not escaped her notice that those same records and observations had formed the basis for her own nascent personality, modeled off of what she had observed of the two people who had survived and thrived within the death game.

But she had almost no records of Mama's time imprisoned in ALO or her fight across Albion. She'd done her best to coax details from her Mama, being as gentle as possible, and frequently asking Caramella for details so that she didn't have to make Mama relive things that she wasn't ready for.

The fatigue brought on by constant stress and near nonstop fighting had strained her Mother almost to her limit. But what had come before had almost broken her completely. Being treated like a Slave, a Doll, powerless, unable to do anything, not even save herself. Yui quickly backed away from this line of thought. The parallels between Mama's experiences and her own breakdown during her time as SAO's MHC AI were much too potent to think about.

For three months, Mama hadn't even been able to control her own appearance or identity. The Violation this represented was at least as bad as what had come before or since, and unless it was addressed, Yui had real concerns about Mama's ability to fully heal from everything else.

As much as these past few weeks had helped, Mama had been growing increasingly restless with everyday. News of the murders, and Papa's participation in the investigation without her had just been the last straw. If she had to be asked to do nothing, it could undo all of the progress that she had made, and prevent further treatment for her other traumas.

"I . . . I understand." Papa said, defeated for now. "I'm just sorry . . . sorry that we couldn't stop everything before it came to this."

Leaning forward, Mama took Papa in an embrace, pulling Yui close too so that she was nestled between her parents. Closing her eyes, even though she knew things could change in a heartbeat, at that moment, she'd never felt more protected. "It's okay, Kirito-kun, we'll make everything okay."

"Sir Kirito, Lady Asuna." Yui couldn't say that she Welcomed the voice that had intruded on her blissful family moment. But she supposed it couldn't be helped, she'd just have to be mature and accept it.

"Ah, Lieutenant." Papa said to the approaching woman. "Do you need something?"

Yui knew the woman's name was Agnes and that she was a commoner, a member of the Musketeer Squad. She also knew, based on the obvious look of disapproval, that she didn't think highly of Mama and Papa displaying their Affection in public.

"As a matter of fact. Yes." Agnes answered. "I'll confess I have some misgivings about you Fae being assigned to the Royal Guard detail." She sighed heavily. "But if it is the Princess's wish, so be it."

"Oh, thanks, I guess." Papa scratched at the back of his head as if unsure whether he just been given a compliment or an insult. Actually, Yui was stumped too.

"In that matter. I have to ask if you've given any consideration for how you'll actually be conducting your guard duties." The Lieutenant gave Papa on odd look, like she was measuring him all over. Yui didn't know what the expression meant, but she didn't like it.

"I thought I'd just keep a low profile and stay out of the way until I'm needed." Papa frowned. "It'll be tricky, Rip Jack knows my face and knows I was part of the investigation, so if he sees me, he'll get suspicious."

"The problem is that you'll be expected to remain in her Highness' close company at all times without arousing suspicion." Again Agnes let her eyes wonder all over Papa's form. "That is usually the duty of the Royal Musketeers as we are able to accompany the Princess anywhere she may need us." Yui traded looks with her Mama as the Lieutenant quirked a brown. "You do realize?"

"Erm, No." Papa shook his head. "What?"

"The Princess' Musketeer Bodyguards are an all female unit." Agnes shrugged her shoulders as Papa began to blanch. Yui didn't think Papa had really thought about that. "In any case, the Princess said you had a solution to that. So I suppose it isn't a problem."


	24. No Justice, Just-Us

Halkegenia Online v2.0 – Chapter 8 – Part 3

"This is the place?" Jensen's expression betrayed nothing of what was going on behind his sunglasses as he stood beside Argo, reading the large, hand painted sign over the doorway of the small guild hall located on the corner of Rouge and Ludlum Street in Arrun's Southern District. If his voice was any indication, what he was seeing didn't encourage much confidence.

Well, too bad.

No one else on the street was paying the place any attention. Ironic, because this was where most of what everyone payed attention to on the message boards got its start.

Argo gave her Undine partner a disapproving look. "This is the place." She agreed, breathing a silent thanks that the sign hanging from the door currently read 'open'.

'Just what am I doing here?' She wondered to herself. Getting info was what. But was it worth the hassle of bringing Jensen along? In the end, she hated to bank on anyone's word, but she hadn't really had a choice. She'd decided to believe the Undine, for better or worse.

But no matter what his insistence on trying to turn over a new leaf with her, Argo didn't completely buy that he could pull it off. Jensen was still a cop at his core, a twenty first century Japanese cop. If she'd ever doubted his credentials, she'd gotten her proof as they'd been making their way down the steps of Arrun's Central Square.

"First thing we need is ears inside of Rio's guild." Jensen said, shortening his stride to keep pace beside her.

Argo rolled her eyes at this deeply held piece of wisdom. "Wow, I sure am glad there tis a trained officer of the law on the case sa!"

Jensen shot her an agitated look. "Didn't we just finish having a talk about this?"

Snickering softly, the Cait Girl answered back. "Yeah, about working together nya." She grinned slyly. "Didn't say I'd be nice."

Suisen nodded her small head. "We call'm as we see'm chyah."

But she'd said she'd try, so,"Lets try not to waste each others time, okay?" Argo grew quiet. "Look, right now, we don't have anything other than a suspicion that Rio knows more than he's letting on. What we need is something to latch onto." Something that they could worry like a bone until they got to the juicy info inside.

"Then getting a little less obvious." Jensen said deliberately. "I think our best bet is to hit up a few of Rio's people and see where that takes us."

And once again the Undine's 'cop' was showing through a little too strongly.

"No, that would be . . ." Argo began.

"Retarded ba!" Suisen declared loudly from her perch on her shoulder.

Smiling, Argo reached up to stroke her miniature partner's head. "Good girl! You're learning well from your big sister huh?" She praised. "Yeah, it'd be pretty stupid to talk to them without info. All it would do is tip Rio off. That's not usually how cops do it, right?" They couldn't go this blind. "We need something to ADngle in front of them first." Something to make them think they knew more than they did.

"Normally I'd have a little more support to work with." Jensen grumbled, removing his glasses to clean the lenses. "You know, police records, finger prints, witness testimony? That sort of thing."

And that was the problem. Magic was a lousy stand in for forensic science and good book keeping. The crime drama's might have overplayed how much the police could get from blood samples and finger prints, but there was still a lot of modern science and methodology that went into a credible investigation.

As for the rest. Their time in Halkegenia hadn't really been enough for everyone to settle in and really get to know their neighbors. So interviews and questioning the locals wasn't much good either. _Anything_ could be suspicious and the witnesses just wouldn't know any better.

"Yeah sorry, we don't have that." Argo's ears began to twitch as she rubbed at her chin. Or did they?

"Okay so, how do you want to go about this?" When Argo didn't answer right away, Jensen frowned. "Hey, hey Argo, are you listening . . ."

"Shh." She waved a hand to silence him. "Actually, I do have an idea," someone that might already have a lead for them, even better, "But I don't think you're going to like it."

"Oh?" Jensen growled, replacing his glasses. "Try me."

Half an hour later, after a stop by her apartment for a clean change of clothes, Jensen's frown had grown even deeper. "You're right." He decided with a tired sigh, reading the sign once more. "I _don't_ like it."

Written in bold lettering above the door, as if to declare to the whole city the identity of the proud institution within. _**ALFheim Daily.**_ In smaller, messier print someone had added _**Arrun Desk Branch Office**_.

"Someone's ambitious." Suisen observed, tilting her head. "Hey, Nee-chan? Do you think there's really offices in the other Cities?"

"Maybe." Argo pondered. "Actually, I'm not sure sa." She admitted shamelessly. Whether the first Fae Newspaper had actually managed to bring in some associates or Netzel and company just crashed at the private homes of the other members of their guild when they visited each city. "Put it on our to do list." She decided. It would be good to know for the future.

"If you're done taking notes." Jensen chimed in. "I'd like to get this over with."

Still snickering to herself, Argo led the way, climbing the steps to the entrance. Opening the door, she stepped over the threshold, and then felt like she'd just hit a wall.

It was the smell. Or at least Argo thought it was. Her Cait Syth senses were so finely honed that she could usually make out dozens of distinct scents when she was walking the streets. Stepping into someplace new, the scents came to the forefront of her attention.

The usual smells of a place filled with people, ash from cooking fires, the sharper smells of cheezes and salted meet from the pantry, sweat, the not so faint traces of body odor, and the much stronger smell of the perfumes and deoderizing powders that were used to cover it up. But then, there was something else, almost as potent. The smell of warm paper, of ink, and pencil erasers, chemical bleaches, and metal.

Argo's nose twitched like mad as she teased it all apart, so distracted that she almost didn't hear the doorbell chiming.

The building that had been converted into the Office of the ALfheim Daily had started off as a small guildhall, its first floor consisting almost exclusively of a general meeting area that hadn't been designed or furnished in a way that was very conducive to becoming the office of a start up newspaper. But the AD staff had made it work.

Somehow, without fail, the AD's contributions to the messageboards were ready every morning and just the other day they'd had their first big commercial success actually releasing an up to date paper to the public.

Furniture from the building's time as a guildhall had been shoved unceremoniously into one corner of room, save for a pair of couches that had been set aside with a coffee table to form a brake area. Aside from that, it looked like the rest of the building must have been ransacked for every table, night stand, and usable, waste level horizontal surface that could be found and then some. Judging by the piles of ink splotched notes and freshly printed broadsheets stacked everywhere, it hadn't been enough.

"Good morning and welcome to the ALfheim Daily! What can I do you for dudes?" A loud and familiar voice announced from behind the front counter. Argo stopped and did a double take.

"Good morning Netzel-san." Argo raised a hand in greeting.

"Argo?" Recognizing her, the self proclaimed reporter shot up straight. "Dude, I haven't nearly thanked you enough for getting me that interview with Lady Alicia the other day!" Netzel eagerly clenched her fists. "It was perfect to round out our first official release. Kick ass!"

Turning around to address the rest of the staff, "Hey Dudes, listen up, we have a special guest!"

"And now I really don't like this." Jensen decided as every head in the room turned in their direction.

Hidden beneath her cloak, Argo couldn't help but indulge in a fist pump. Jackpot. More often than not, it payed to feed a potential source. Mutual back scratching was a time honored tradition in the info business.

Stopping at their work, the other members of the ALfheim Daily Newspaper, began to trickle towards the front of the hall. It wasn't a very big group, a half dozen all in all, and maybe that many more out collecting stories. For now, they were making up for their small staff with hard work and determination, but if they really had ambitious of expanding into a real paper, they were going to need to start recruiting some more talent.

"So anyways guys, this is Argo, the one who got us that interview with Lady Alicia." Then turning her head away from everyone else and muttering darkly. "And got my Arrun Tower Permission reinstated."

Argo found herself surrounded, words of thanks coming from all sides as well as introductions. She'd already learned a bit about the AD staff thanks to keeping an ear to the ground and her nose on the scent, but other than Netzel, she hadn't met any of them in person before.

There was Thio, an Imp with a Cheshire's grin, the AD's chief deliveryman and gopher, traveling between Arrun and the nearby market town where the papers were printed with the help of a local type setter. A droopy looking Undine named Nora, blue bangs just long enough to hide behind, their chief editor and spell checker. A pair of silver haired Leprechauns, Shina and Ross, who looked like they could have been siblings but were in fact married and served as AD's second and third journalists respectively. Lastly was the man who managed to hold everything together, a fox eyed Cait who went by Nicholas, the tireless chief editor and fact checker who did everything he could to guarantee that everything put to paper was verifiable fact.

"Of course, cutting out the juicy gossip does cut _in_ to our bottom line." Nick smiled as he smacked Netzel heavily on the back. "Which is really a problem when we're barely making ends meat here and this shrimp can't go two days without us having to go get her out of jail. That exclusive interview with Lady Alicia was exactly what we needed to make our official launch a financial success." Giving a sincere bow. "Thanks on behalf of all of us."

"Well, that is, uhm . . ." Netzel scratched nervously at the back of her head.

Grinning. "Twas nothing." It really hadn't been anything special. Alicia was usually easy to chat up, just dropping that some free publicity was coming her way had been enough to get her to make time.

"Revenue or not, we're going to be in real trouble if the watch starts posting bail." Nora agreed to a heavy drooping of Netzel's ears. "Oh, don't be like that!" The Undine instructed sharply. "You'll be back in the field in no time."

"Something happen?" Jensen growled, getting the attention of the staff who had until then been politely ignoring the Watch Officer in their midst.

"Oh, and I guess you all know this jerk since he's locked me up a ton of times." Netzel waved vaguely in the detective's direction.

Jensen raised two fingers. "Twice."

The Cait reporter puffed out her cheeks and crossed her arms. "Well, I guess all you watch officers just look the same dude!"

Another sigh, Jensen rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "You were being a public nuisance Netzel, when that happens, you have to go into time out."

"Or maybe I was performing a public _service_ bro!" Netzel snapped back, a little too pridefully for someone who had gotten used to sleeping in lockup. "And should be given time in!"

Throwing his hands open in disgust, Jensen raised his voice in anger. "What does that even mean?"

Nicholas glanced swiftly between Jensen and his reporter, thinking quickly, the Editor stepped between the two as mediator. "Alright, I think things are just getting a _bit_ heated in here, nyeh? Maybe we should all just cool down a bit. Netzel, apologize to the nice policeman." But Netzel wasn't going to have any of it, looking away angrily. "Netzel." Nicholas repeated in a more commanding tone. "So help me if I have to . . ."

"Jeez, I'm sorry already!" She snapped. "I know they're just doing their job. But this was a big one." Netzel rocked from side to side, voice growing whiny. "I was this close to blowing the lid on Rio and his guys!"

"Nee-chan?" Suisen whispered in Argo's cocked left ear. "Is this what they call Hitting the Jackpot?"

Argo nodded. "Oh yeah." Jensen refused to look Argo in the face, if he did, he'd have to suffer an incredibly smug smile. But hey, she couldn't help being right all of the time.

"Again, I'm sorry about this Detective." Nicholas put a hand on Netzel's shoulder. "Netsu-chan has been chaffing at the bit since we picked her up at Arrun Tower this morning. The Watch Officer told us that if she can't stay out of trouble for a week he's going to raise her jail time to make up the difference."

"I just have to wait four, no, _three and half_ days and I'll break even." Netzel declared loudly, tallying on her fingers. "No, wait . . . did he mean Halkegenian weeks or earth weeks?"

"You know, telling an officer of the law that you're going to commit a crime soon," Jensen grumbled, "Not very smart."

"Well I'm not trying to be smart, I'm trying to blow a big story!"

"To be fair, you did try to sneak into the ABC's guild hall through the women's bath." Ross observed with a smug look. "And given some of the stuff you've been covering, can you really blame us for leaving you to hang?" The other members of the AD nodded in agreement with the Leprechaun's assessment.

'Okay, this is going to be good.' Argo raised a hand, and kept it raised until she had everyone's squabbling attention. Here she was, standing in front of a half dozen info geeks, people almost as in to this sort of investigating and teasing truth from scarce facts as she was. And she felt right at home. She guessed maybe she should have come here sooner.

"Actually, now that you mention it, we're sort of interested in Rio-san ourselves sa." Argo lowered her hand, smile widening. "We'd really love to hear about any info you've got on him."

"Rio?" Netzel wondered. She shook her head as if deciding it didn't matter. "Uh, yeah, sure thing Dudes. I mean, it's the least we can do for the help, right?"

Jensen stepped forward. "Then first, we'd like to know what you were trying to find out." The cop stopped and gave the Cait reporter his best level stare. "Must have been something good if you were snooping into it Netzel."

"Oh it totally is! What I think is going on is . . ." A hand fell on the Cait's shoulder to silence her. All the while, Nicholas maintained his perfectly neutral smile. It didn't look so welcoming now. In fact, now, it looked like a shark who had scented blood in the water. And Argo had a pretty good idea about why.

Tucking her hands into her pockets, ears piquing up, she hoped for the best even as she prepared herself for the worst. "Okay, you have a price tag your head right now sa. So, you show me yours and I'll show you mine nyah." Now came the tricky part, sometimes information got brokered for money, and sometimes . . .

Clasping his hands together greedily, Nicholas gave his opening offer. "I think we could settle for five hundred up front and a clean slate for Netzel to get back to work. Plus, you seem to be after Rio yourselves, we'd like to know just what your interest in our illustrious Sylph candidate might be."

Argo blew air through her teeth in a poor imitation of a whistle, as it turned out, that was one thing that Cait's couldn't actually do very well. That was a steep price. In fact, it was more than Argo would have asked for in an opening bid, a lot more. Either Nicholas was new to this sort of stuff, or he was very good at it and very aggressive on top of that.

"And why exactly would you want that information?" Jensen asked, rightly suspicious. Good, he was starting to get the hang of this sort of stuff. Quick learner that one. "You do realize this isn't something you can toss in tomorrow's paper."

"Maybe not tomorrow's." Nicholas agreed. "But the story has to break eventually. We _are_ a Newspaper and you _are_ asking us to break a story to you early. That sort of stuff gets out real fast, and if we don't have any juicy new bits of info to show for it, we'd have to close our doors right quick. Footing expenses ain't cheap, even when we get to live here rent free. There's living expenses, cost of paper, cost to print, we'll need to run a filler story and we'll take a hit without a solid headline, it's all very expensive."

"Tis that so?" Argo wondered out loud. Time to make an appeal to the source, even if it didn't get her anyplace, if Netzel buckled even a little, it would push Nicholas and his demands back down. "Hey, Netsu-chan, what do you think sa? It tis your info after all. Aren't you always saying the 'People have a Right to know' nyah?"

"Oh definitely dude!" She raised her hands helplessly. "But a reporter's gotta eat too or the number of new stories will be zero. It's a bummer, but that's what you gotta do to get the story out." She grinned victoriously. "But then you better watch out. Once a stories out of the bottle there's no stopping it until everyone's heard!"

Wow, such bright and boundless optimism. Argo reminded herself to be sad when the world finally broke her.

"Slash the price in half and pick two out of three." Argo said. "And then _maybe _we can talk." She glanced over her shoulder as she noted a distinct lack of back seat negotiation from the Undine at her back. Jensen simply shrugged, seeming convinced for now that she knew what she was doing.

"Two out of three, full price." Nicholas decided. "The money and the info."

"What?! But what about me being cooped up in here?!" Netzel jumped up and down excitably. "That's ultra lame dude. Complete betrayal!"

"Not if it gets us the money to do another issue every week." Ross shook his head.

"And have a little saved up." His wife Shina agreed.

Nora bobbed her head, bangs swayng softly. "Sorry Netsu-chan. It's better for us to have the money and the info so that we can get everything off the ground."

"Yeah, no." Jensen shook his head. "We've got enough on our hands as it is. I'm not crazy about telegraphing our moves to a _newspaper_."

"Take it or leave it." Nicholas said, crossing his arms confidently. "Because you know what I think? I think you came to us because your stuck. I think this info may be just what you're looking for, and I think your good for five hundred."

And the worst part was, he was right. Alicia trusted her, Argo knew that if she asked, she could get the money floated to buy the informtion as was. But if someone was talking to Rio and they didn't know who, spreading their plans around was a monumentally bad idea.

So, she'd just have to give something almost as good and see if Nicholas would bite.

"Kay, so here tis what I think." Argo said, smile never leaving her face as she paced back and forth in front of the gathered reporters. "I think that five hundred number is way too high, cause if you actually had a story, you'd have Netsu-chan writing it and not sitting at her desk fuming." Argo nodded in the direction of the Cait reporter. "Which also means you don't have enough info to have _any_ idea what we might be after." Which didn't mean it wasn't still valuable, but hey, he didn't know that.

"So instead of five hundred and a sneak peak. Let's try two hundred, Ao-kun", she hooked a thumb over her shoulder at the dark blue Undine at her back, "Vouches for Netzel-san this time, and you get exclusive rights to the story _if _this pans out."

Netzel perked up again at the offer of freedom. "Hey, let's do that! Hey, are you listening?"

It looked like Nick was considering. More importantly, the rest of the Faeries were consdiering it too. It wasn't long before they called a huddle, speaking conspiratorially for a few moments, at last coming to an agreement.

"_If?_" Nicholas asked. "If's a dangerous word Argo-san."

"Tis a fun one too." She pointed out. "Ifs make the best stories Nick-kun, think about it."

And so he did, and so he finally frowned, but he extended his hand. "What's life without a gamble right?" He wondered out loud. "Okay, you have yourself a deal."

It didn't take long to put the promissory note safely in the hands of the DA staff and for Jensen to lay down a written release for Netzel to get back to harassing people in lieu of having something better to do. It was all down hill from there.

"So, talk." Jensen instructed. "What's your interest in Rio?"

Drumming her fingers against the surface of her desk, Netzel grinned. "You know, when you think about it, Rio's guild really stinks."

Argo couldn't help it, she blinked. "And?"

Netzel's grin widened. "Well, they stink so bad that they had to get a guild hall that runs right over one of the sewer mains. Like really, if you look at the map of the sewers they've been drawing up, they're right over the main line which also runs under the Arrun Tower Underground Arcade."

"Okay." Jensen said slowly. "I think we're missing something here."

"So." Netzel elaborated. "Remember that vandalism back at the beginning of the week."

How could they forget about it. Tasteless, tacky, and mean spirited . . . All of the hallmarks of Rio. Argo planted her head against the table. "Of course."

"Of course what?" Jensen was getting impatient. Time to explain it in baby words.

"That stupidly huge banner. It was at least as big as a ship's sail." In fact, Argo remembered that it actually _was_ a square rigged sail, an old one that was tattered beyond repair, but still a huge piece of canvas, big enough to display the anti Sakuya propaganda so that it could be seen across Arrun. "We all just figured that it had to be set up in advance so they could cut and run. But I'm betting nobody thought to ask . . ." How had the vandals gotten it there in the first place sight unseen.

She gave it time to sink in. Jensen snorted. "That's going to be one hell of a littering fine.

* * *

Given recent events, Mortimer's bungling of the murder investigation, the public fiasco that had come of the interviews, the general exhaustion that had been gnawing at her for almost a week now, and more, the uncertainty constantly clouding the future. Sakuya hadn't been quite sure how they would be received when she and Alicia finally arrived at the Royal Palace the day before the festivities were set to begin.

If word of Mortimer's connection to the murderer Rip Jack had spread beyond the thankfully sympathetic Henrietta and her allies, she could just as easily be shunned and rejected as greeted with a warm reception.

She certainly hadn't expected to be separated from her own guards and escorted by a quartet of Manticore Knights to a section of the Palace she had never visited before, nor to find herself brought before Queen Marianne herself.

"Your Majesty." Sakuya gave a small bow. It still felt odd, deferring to Royalty on a regular occasion. Even stranger to be deferred to as a Noblewoman. She just thought of it as a sign of respect when it was from her own people, but when the Palace staff did it, it was a reminder of how strange thing had really become.

"Lady Sakuya, it is a pleasure as always to have you. I hope your journey from Arrun was a pleasant one." The Queen of Tristain possessed a smile that was much like her daughter's, rising to her feet, she gestured for the escorting guards to depart. The Manticore Knights, shutting the doors of their Sovereign's chambers to leave them in privacy.

"A good deal easier than for most, I suppose." The Lady of the Sylphs answered, folding her arms delicately before herself. "Wings do make the journey more scenic."

Sakuya couldn't help but discretely take in her surroundings. So this was how the Queen of the Kingdom lived. To say that it was an ostentatious space would be too much. Rather, the apartments were fairly modest as such things went. Though, the historian in her couldn't help but note, everything in the sitting room, and she suspected the connected rooms, was of the very highest quality.

This was already the fifth time that Sakuya had been to the Royal Palace. Her official duties as the First Lord of Sylvain requiring her to travel to the Capital regularly to give address to the Crown and the House of Peers on behalf of the people under her care. But it was the first time she had been brought here, separated from her own escorts at the request of Captain Hammond himself, or left in the Company of either Princess Henrietta or Queen Marianne without attending guards.

It was either a sign of trust, or a sign of desperation, it made Sakuya hesitate to reply.

Of course, she should have expected the Queen to pick up on something like that. Smiling kindly, Queen Marianne beckoned her forward. "I'm sure you're wondering why I would ask you here on such short notice and I assure you it is nothing to fear."

Sakuya's lips parted. Curiosity won out over caution, good or bad, there was a reason she was here "It has crossed my mind."

Her eyes naturally fell on the alcoves to either side of the tall windows. Normally, a pair of servants would be in attendance, immediately available at the Queen's slightest whim, but otherwise invisible. At least to the Nobility. To Sakuya, their absence spoke volumes. "If it isn't too much, may I assume this is a delicate matter, your Majesty?"

The Queen lowered her gaze to the floor. "Delicate? Yes, that is a good word for it." She decided quietly. "But maybe more than that, also quite personal." Delicate _and_ personal? "In these times . . . there are very few people that I can trust. And fewer still that I can allow Henrietta to put her trust in. I wanted this chance to take measure of you for myself."

"Your Majesty?"

Sakuya took a half step back. To be honest, it wasn't the sort of thing she'd been expecting to hear. It seemed too informal to be addressed that way by a reigning monarch. As ridiculous as being considered a Noble herself.

"Please, I am speaking to you in confidence, you may call me Marianne, if you wish." The Queen raised her hand. "And really, is it really so strange that a mother would worry for her daughter?"

"No, of course not." Sakuya pressed her lips together. She had some idea where this conversation was going, and she didn't know whether to be honored or terrified.

Sakuya followed the Queen with her eyes as she returned to one of two couches set opposite of one another before a small, antique table. A table, she noted, which had been laid out with a tea set and serving tray, no doubt just prior to her arrival judging by the steam still rising from the tea pot's spout.

"I understand your interest." Sakuya seated herself, hundreds of hours of etiquette courses, half forgotten, but there lessons etched indelibly in her memory, allowing her to fold delicately in such a way that her yukata was left with hardly a wrinkle or excess fold. Any other time she would have been pleased with herself, the little actions and formalities, the small graces that she added as artistic flourish, they helped to distract her from how much of a fake she really was. "But forgive me for asking, I would have thought you'd have already known everything you'd need to know about me. You must have people to do that."

Marianne smiled slyly as she pored their tea. "You're quite right. Captain Hammond of course, and Cardinal Mazarin are fair judges of character, among others." A cup and its saucer was handed over. "And you are correct, they have taken measure of you, as a Leader, and as a Noble." Closing her eyes and speaking firmly. "But none of them are Henrietta's mother, and none of them can take your measure as a woman."

Marianne took a sip of her tea, the pause between them giving time for both to think. Sakuya raised her own tea cup, taking in the aroma of the leaves. More from the Rhub Al'Khali caravans. She wondered if that was deliberate courtesy or if the Queen simply had a liking for it as well.

"It is important you see." Marianne continued softly. "Given the gala tomorrow evening. You do understand its significance?"

The celebration commemorating Tristain's military victory over the forces of Albion. Sakuya had seen the preparations under way as she'd arrived with the rest of her staff. There had of course been plenty of celebrating in the streets and bars when the volunteers and Tristanian battle fleet had returned. But that had been the exuberance of soldiers, a reward for a job well done. The Gala was to be a more formal affair, more practical, more political.

No doubt, Cardinal Mazarin had orchestrated it to capitalize politically on their military successes so far, and to shore up the Crown's position by reminding the Nobility of the potency of their new alliance.

Among other things, the ball would see the announcement of Baron Gramont's ascension to the rank of General of Tristain's armies and garrisons for his service in the planning of Operation Dunkirk, along with Prince Wales' official induction as a Commodore of the Navy and the elevation of several of his Royalist officers to command posts.

Sakuya too would be expected to attend. In fact, it was the reason she was here now, to give herself time to prepare. Secretly, she hated this, ironic given that her old self would have killed to have been invited. The Gala was already bound to be a historic occasion. It wasn't so fun and inviting when she would be using her very presence as political capital and to promote a war that was bound to get hundreds of thousands of people killed.

But if it was for a cause that would keep her people safe, then she'd gladly swallow her own distaste.

More importantly. "Tomorrow night." Sakuya breathed. "You know that the Gala is almost certainly when Reconquista will intend to strike." If there intent was to use Rip Jack, either as a diversion, or to deliver the strike himself as a crippling blow to the alliance between Tristain and the Fae, that would be the time to do so. It would maximize publicity, and send a clear message that not even the crown would be able to cover up.

Sakuya breathed prayers of thanks that Jack and his accomplices were now none the wiser under the watchful eye of Morgiana and a dozen Royal mages and musketeers. If they tried anything, their every move would be tracked and they would be stopped.

But there was still so much they didn't know. Jack might not be the only contingency, his talents hardly lent themselves well to a kidnapping, and they'd already failed once to assassinate Prince Wales. Who was to say what else might be planned? That was why Kirito and the others would be providing extra security, a last line of defense for the unexpected.

"That has not slipped my mind." Marianne admitted, voice pained, she raised a hand before her chest. "As Queen, I am proud to see that Henrietta has grown into a fine young woman and possesses the courage to see the Royal Guard's plan through to fruition. As her mother, I have grave reservations. But I have faith in Captain Hammond and his subordinates to see to her safe." Shaking her head, Marianne continued. "No, what concerns me now is what will become of Henrietta in just a few weeks time."

A few weeks time? Sakuya frowned. "Pardon, your Maj . . . Marianne. Perhaps I've missed something?"

"No, nothing at all." She assured Sakuya with another smile. "We've kept it quiet, between myself, Henrietta, and Mazarin, though I'm sure you've heard rumor."

Sakuya inhaled slowly. So, it was _this_. She couldn't say it was unexpected, though rather a bit sudden for it to be announced out of the blue.

The scholar in her had refused to be silenced until she'd learned all she could about Tristain and its recent history. The good, and the bad, the truth and propaganda. Tristain, always the smallest of the Kingdoms of Halkegenia, had languished for much of the past decade, deprived of strong rule by the passing of the Prince Regent, Henrietta's father. It could even be said that the indecisive leadership of Queen Marianne had sewn the seeds of Reconquista sentiment, allowing the Royal Family to appear weak in the eyes of the ambitious.

Sakuya had been right to think that Henrietta was politically deft beyond her years. She had already begun to capitalize on her close alliance and relations with the Faeries of ALfheim. The victories that they had won together, were bolstering the Crown's popularity in the eyes of the common people and petty nobility, and reasserting Royal Authority among the squabbling landed Nobility at the same time. But it still wasn't enough.

The Crown was still lacking in the unity necessary to take control of the Kingdom in the face of total war. And Sakuya feared that it really would be a _total_ war. They either needed a miracle, one even bigger even than Dunkirk, or else another political coup to sustain their momentum. This was it.

"At the Gala tomorrow, we will be taking the opportunity to announce my intent to relinquish the throne to make way for my Daughter. Founder willing, Henrietta will be crowned by month's end as Tristain's new Queen." Moving swiftly, Sakuya realized. Well, it only made sense in this situation. But even so . . . "I feel like I've failed her again."

"Oh?" Sakuya looked up. Marianne was no longer smiling. She looked down into her own cup of tea as if seeing her history reflected in it.

"I fear that I am partly responsible for this sorry state of affairs, you see." Sakuya wasn't quite certain why the Queen would be telling her this, but she listened, she was very good at listening. "When my husband passed away, the grief I felt caused me to turn my back on my Kingdom." Marianne confessed, turning to look out the tall windows. On the fourth floor of the palace, only the highest branches were visible through the glass.

"I tried to do what was best for Henrietta, and to ensure her happiness, but I only managed to make a mess of things. The Prince Regent was well liked you see, and I had entrusted my husband with most everything in matters of the Kingdom. In the end, the best I could do was step back and permit Cardinal Mazarin to govern as my daughter's regent. I offered what help I could, but . . ." The Queen sighed wistfully. "Henrietta is more like her father than she knows. Not just a Queen, a ruler. She will go far, if for the right reasons, and . . ." Marianne looked back to Sakuya ". . . with the right allies."

Sakuya set her cup down. This was not how she had expected her afternoon to go, but she was growing used to being put on the spot. "You flatter me, your Majesty, but I am newcomer, certainly you can't imply that I should be held in such high regard." If Queen Marianne was propositioning her as a political ally for her daughter, it had to be made clear how untenable such a thing would be in the long run.

"And why not? You've made a powerful impression, on Henrietta, and on the Nobility as a whole. Dare I say, given time, you'll make a fine Noblewoman. And there will be benefits besides, keeping close ties to the Crown."

"I am also merely an elected official, your Majesty, I may be replaced at the whims of the people." Which made her a poor political ally in most regards. It would be better if the soon to be Queen embraced the stations of the Faerie Lords rather than their holders.

The Queen laughed softly. "My, I would never have imagined you would think so little of yourself."

'Better that then to think too highly.' Sakuya though. Who was she fooling really? And people thought she was a good leader for that? For what? This now just underlined it, always, she was simply reacting to what happened around her. She wasn't . . . wasn't what people expected of her . . . not really.

The hand resting over her own surprised her. Physical contact, it was the last thing she would expect from the Queen of the Kingdom, but Marianne simply held on gently. "Sometimes, a confidant is more important for who they are then the power they wield. I had my doubts of course, Henrietta has been quite taken with you, and it is in the nature of young people to find the exotic fascinating." The thumb of the Queen's hand brushed against the sleeve of her Yukata, unspoken emphasis.

"But then I heard you speak the other day. You have a _gift_ Sakuya." The Queen emphasized gently. "You can do with words what others would need force of arms to accomplish. I see now what my daughter sees in you, and I know that she has chosen rightly to confide in you."

"I still don't know what you really expect of me."

"Like I said," Marriane's voice grew severe, "My daughter is very much like her father, she is also very much like he was when he was young, that is to say, quite impulsive. I fear that she will need to be brought down to earth from time to time. And I believe you will do that for her. I am not asking you to just be her ally Sakuya, but rather, please continue to be her _friend. _A Princess has few of those, and even fewer as a Queen."

"With all due respect. I don't think . . . that would be wise, your Majesty." Sakuya stumbled, alarmed.

Really, she'd only ever intended to be cordial with the Princess. Of course, they'd had some fascinating discussions, and even a strong working relationship. But Sakuya was reluctant to call it more than that. As should Henrietta. If she was to become Queen, she couldn't afford to appear to be playing favorites with the Fae. Henrietta would need to remain a reliable ally, but also serve as a mediator, she couldn't do that if the two of them were perceived as being too close.

Her shoulder's slumped imperceptibly, even she wouldn't have noticed it if not for those same damned etiquette lessons that let her put on such a convincing charade, day in and day out. Just how had this happened?

"Please, I know that it is a difficult thing that I ask." Marianne urged. "But do at least entertain the notion. It may well be our saving grace one day."

And at the heart of it, the Queen was correct, of course. In a world where the law was as much an agreement between individuals as a contract between the Citizen and the State Sakuya would be giving up a potentially very influential ally in the Princess if she didn't pursue their budding friendship. So why did it make her feel so nauseous? Perhaps because it would be a means to an end rather than a real friendship.

She shook her head, in that case, it wasn't really her choice to make. Even so, she couldn't help but feel a little more alone, just that little bit more isolated for having accepted it.

"I will do what I can, your Majesty," Sakuya said solemnly, eyes cased down at her own folded hands, "For Tristain and for your Daughter." And for her own people most of all.

A look of relief swept across Marianne's face, erasing the anxiety that had been there a moment before. Instantly, the Queen appeared far younger, far more vibrant than she had throughout the conversation until now. "I thank you, sincerely, Sakuya. You cannot imagine the burden that is lifted knowing that my daughter has shown such excellent judgment."

Sakuya had never felt so phony. She didn't dwell on it, she couldn't, there came a knock at the door.

Queen Marianne frowned. One thing Royalty wasn't used to was being interrupted. "Enter." She called softly.

The head of a musketeer in the uniform of the Royal Guard peeked in past the partly opened door. "Your Majesty." He saluted swiftly.

"What have you to report." The Queen asked.

"My apologies." The man's eyes switched to Sakuya. "In fact, this is for the First Lady of Sylvain."

Sakuya shared an uncertain look with the Queen. "What seems to be the problem?" She prayed silently that it had nothing to do with the assassination plot, nothing at all to do with the murders. Even a surprise attack by Reconquista would be preferable, probably.

"A priority communication has just been received from Arrun, specifically directed to Lady Sakuya. When the matter was explained, I'm afraid the Lord Justice overheard and now he is insisting it be dealt with decisively."

"The Lord Justice?" The Queen was standing again, even as she asked. "What right does Richmond think he has to weigh in on matters of the Fae?"

_Richmond_. A mean spirited, cold, and conservative man who she was never certain whether to view as neutral or an outright enemy. Sakuya grimaced, they'd fought too hard to make sure that the likes of him didn't hold sway within the Faerie cities. Not for his lack of trying so it seemed.

"My apologies your Majesty." Sakuya turned to the Queen. "But if we may continue this another time perhaps?"

Marianne dipped into a small bow. "Of course, Lady Sakuya. Please, do whatever you think is right. I would have it no other way."

With a nod of thanks, Sakuya was led from the chamber and back into the more familiars parts of the Palace. Down the grand stairways, and across the halls to the more modest rooms that housed the organs of Royal government.

Here, among the many offices and archive rooms, a place had been set aside for the Palace's small Fae staff. It didn't amount to much. A trio of Imps, a Puca, an Undine, and a handful of Sylph, Salamander, and Cait Syth messengers. But this room was still kept closely guarded at all times.

The reasoning was two fold.

Knowledge of the moonlight mirror had been leaking out for some time, there was simply no way to hide an ability which was possessed by several thousand Faerie Mages in constant contact with the native Halkegenians, and so they hadn't even tried.

Instead, Alicia had devised a different and much more effective strategy. Rumors had been spread around about the mirror's exact nature and limitations. Sometime true, sometimes false, often conflicting. The point was less to hide the existence of the spell and more to obfuscate its abilities. Thus far, it appeared to have worked beautifully. But that also meant keeping its use in the presence of prying eyes to a minimum.

While Rip Jacks involvement might soon bring the scheme to an end, if his clients had thought to ask, messages conveyed by Moonlight Mirror were still for all intents and purposes impossible to intercept and thus reserved for priority communications, it was therefore essential that both ends of the mirror be kept secure to prevent any eavesdropping.

Sakuya found Princess Henrietta and her regent already waiting when she arrived, along with another individual who was no more pleasant for having been expected.

"Lady Sakuya." The elderly Lord Justice smiled unkindly.

"Lord Richmond. I can't imagine why you'd be involved at a time like this." Sakuya bit off quickly, fearing that if she said anything more it would end in obscenities.

This man was no friend of the Fae. Nor was he much of a friend of actual Justice. Unfortunately, he was a staunch supporter of the right's of the Nobility, and was thus firmly entrenched with the old guard, using his powers as Lord Justice to enforce rulings that favored the old and influential families. Not unusual for the times, but repugnant nonetheless.

It was Sakuya's great misfortune to have to deal with the man on a regular basis. Most recently in a case involving a criminal set up on the part of one of Tristain's own Knights. Thanks in large part to Richmond, she didn't expect much to come of her demands for to bring punitive measures against the bastard who had attempted to extort a child.

"Merely expressing my concerns on behalf of our fair Kingdom, Lady Sakuya, and ensuring that justice is administered." Gray skin crinkled at the corners of his mouth. "You speak so highly of justice, I thought you might like to see how it is properly administered to the treasonous."

Sakuya's eyes narrowed, and just what did that mean? No, she'd find out from her own people first.

"Esnesby." She pronounced the nonsensical name with as much care as she could manage, nodding towards the Imp presently maintaining the Moonlight Mirror. Nodding once, the darkness adept chanted a few short lines, the room dimming as the relay was opened fully, the mirror standing at the center of the room turning briefly silver white before fading to reveal the reflection of another room somewhere in Arrun.

Sakuya took her place before the mirror, peering into the reflection and at the trio duo that confront her. "Argo?" And beside her the Undine detective of the City watch, Jensen, doing his best to remain inconspicuous.

"How's it going Sakuya-sama?" The Cait broker raised one hand in a small victory sign. "We were wondering when we'd get through to you."

"Miss Argo, Detective, just what is the meaning of this?" In the gloom on the far side of the mirror, she notice another trio standing behind the two. Her eyes narrowed. From here, and in the dimness, it was hard to be sure, but . . . "Rio?"

The loud mouthed leader of her opposition looked up defiantly, managing to hold the expression for only a moment before running out of steam and turning his gaze aside. His hands held before him, he didn't look much like the smug troll that had pestered her in public just days ago. The other two, one was a long haired Sylph, the other was a tomboyish Salamander, both young women, and both looking considerable more distraught than their sullen Guild Leader.

"Lady Sakuya, it appears we may have grounds to bring vandalism charges against the ABC guild." Jensen reported casually, as if this was nothing at all strange or significant. She would have expressed her surprise, or lack of it, more openly almost anyplace else, but here among Nobles, she allowed her persona to tell her how to act.

Head tilting back, her lip twitched in displeasure. "Please, do continue."

Jensen shook his head. "I think Argo-san can probably handle that, it was her contacts which gave us grounds to search the place."

"But only because someone had reported all that paint missing to the Watch nyah." Argo pointed back.

Jensen shook his head. "It was thanks to Suisen we were able to see inside before they just threw out what they had left."

"But I wouldn't have known about the trap door into the sewers, that's rare info! And you were able to cut them off when they were trying to dump the evidence."

Sakuya felt the two investigators working on one of her very last nerves. She was just about to sharply interrupt them when another voice spoke up on the other side of the mirror.

"Get a room Nee-chan!" A . . . _mouse eared_ Pixie proclaimed loudly as she hopped up from the Cait Girl's shoulder. "That's not what Sakuya-sama wants to hear about ba!"

The two Faeries had the decency to look ashamed of their conduct. Behind them, Sakuya had never seen Rio look more disgusted.

"Well anyways, keeping this short and sweet sa, we've got solid evidence linking Rio-san and his guild, the Friends of the ABC, to that little vandalism stunt done to Arrun tower." Argo gave a fanged smile. "The evidence as good as lays it all on him and his Lieutenants."

"Something I intend to protest!" Rio said loudly, as if worried he would be ignored if he didn't make a nuisance of himself whenever possible.

Jensen and Argo both turned to face him, neither looking particularly amused with his antics.

"I'd really love to see you try." The Undine growled. "Or are you saying you have no idea how over a hundred gallons of stolen paint and half a sail's worth of canvas ended up in your guildhall's basement? Or how _these_ got there?"

The Watch officer held a sheet of paper up to the mirror so that Sakuya could make out the writing. Hand written, she noted, they would have to be to bypass the few local printers who had crafted Japanese type for their presses. Sakuya's mood immediately soured as she read the page and then looked back at Rio.

"At first I just thought you were a troll." She finished reading with displeasure. "I never imagined you'd actually be this _stupid_."

More hurtful language, she was used to it by now, these weren't the first words written against her. But these were the first she'd seen that went after the Crown as well. She looked over her shoulder, they were very fortunate that Japanese was still an indecipherable language in the eyes of Tristain's literate elite.

"How many people have seen these?" Sakuya asked quickly, only hoping that Argo and Jensen had the sense to know how bad what they were holding was.

"Ah, Sakuya?" Henrietta had picked up on her agitation. She was as perceptive as her mother seemed to think. Sakuya would have approved at any other time.

She sighed. "They're simply propaganda." Sakuya explained. "Rio and his guild have a history of making slanderous allegations." Some worse than others, in this case, much worse. She stared right at the idiot, thinking as hard as she could at him, as if somehow she could communicate how bad this was.

"Just Argo and myself." Jensen confirmed. "Some of the other Watchmen helped us transport them to HQ, but they were boxed up."

"Good." Relief was the least of what Sakuya was feeling at that moment. If they could be disposed of without further question, that would be ideal. "Please have them placed into storage until I can have a word with Rio-san, in private."

"Oh, I believe that talk should be made quite public." Sakuya's skin crawled as the Lord Justice decided to step in. "Wouldn't you agree, Cardinal Mazarin?"

"I fail to see why that is any of your concern, _Richmond_." Sakuya very carefully avoided using the honorific of his title. "You've no business meddling in the affairs of the Faerie settlements."

The old badger of an aristocrat merely smirked as he circled behind her. "In that you are, of course, correct my dear. In the matters of petty or capital crime I hold no sway. But it is the nature of the crime I contest." He gestured to the Moonlight Mirror, to Rio and his Lieutenants. "This man is charged with slander against an ally of the Crown, in conjunction with his insults just the night before last which I have witnessed for myself. Given the state of the Kingdom, such flagrant disregard for propriety must not be allowed."

Rio finally seemed to understand what he'd stepped in. "What?! But I've obeyed the damn treaty! We haven't done anything outside of the cities!" His eyes widened and he pointed accusingly at Sakuya. "You . . . you're letting them do this to silence me . . ." He snarled. "Sakuya you Who-"

"Enough!"

Even though the mirror was a construct of magic, it rattled in mid air at the bark of Sakuya's voice. It was undignified, unladylike, and at that moment, she simply did not care.

"Rio, for once in your moronic life, use what little sense you have for speaking to know when to _shut up_." Her outburst had been sudden, unexpected, and done exactly what she'd wanted. Rio was used to seeing her endure, he didn't know what to do when she pushed back. Sakuya allowed herself a moment, to catch her breath, to compose herself. Then, with Rio dealt with for the moment, she turned to the real problem.

Sakuya thought fast. Richmond might well be able to do something with this. Their agreement with the Crown more or less demanded that Richmond turn a blind eye to affairs in the Fae cities. But Rio had given him a target he simply couldn't resist, and one that might step outside of the bounds of protection given by the treaty. A Kingdom preparing for war, such a flagrant insult of a high official when coupled with what he had said during the interview in Arrun, there was real grounds to claim treason against the Crown. It would be ridiculous in any nation ensconced in the Rule of Law, Tristain wasn't such a nation. This sort of abuse of power was not uncommon.

The fact that Rip Jack was seemingly working with Reconquista certainly didn't help the situation. Worse, if Rio really was connected to the assassin like Mortimer predicted, she wouldn't be able to protect him if it got out . . . Sakuya turned to the elderly Regent, waiting to see what he had to say.

She was novice while Mazarin was an old master at this sort of thing. And the first rule of a master was to remain uninvolved until it was time to strike the balance. "I believe you would have a difficult time making your case Richmond. He is, after all a Fae, and Lady Sakuya's responibility." Eyes closing in contemplation. "But I can't see this going unpunished. Lady Sakuya?"

Eyes were on her now. Mazarin, Richmond, but most importantly, Henrietta. The Princess watched her curiously, observed her like a child examining the face of a parent. For that single instant, it froze her more than the threat posed by Richmond. She knew exactly what she must say. Now it was only a matter of how to say it.

The Queen's words. If Marianne was right, Henrietta looked up to her, _confided_ in her, more than she'd thought. She barely knew the girl, and yet she could influence this Princess, soon to be Queen, far out of proportion with the time she had known her. Another responsibility laid on her shoulders. Another weight she couldn't relinquish. She'd spent her school career reading about _other_ people mistakes. Now she was imagining her own.

But that didn't matter, because Henrietta was still waiting. This girl . . . this girl would be Queen. And no matter what happened, whole branches of history would descend from her. Any mistake that Sakuya could make, would like nothing compared to what Henrietta could or could not accomplish. Compared to that, her own fears were petty and easily forgotten, compared to that, she had no right to hesitate.

"You are of course correct, Cardinal Mazarin, this must not go unpunished." She found the words.

"S-Sakuya!" Rio looked aghast. Jensen had to hold him back from the mirror.

"Detective, do you believe the evidence is enough to file charges against Rio and his guild?"

Jensen gave a small nod, lips pressed thinly. "I don't think anyone would doubt it. When we brought it before Thinker-san, he said that you should have a say as the wronged party and as Leader of the Sylphs."

She tried not to smile at that. That Undine was quite the gentleman, and quite a bit better and keeping himself together than appearance might suggest. For all of the horror, the SAO incident has certain produced some exceptional people.

"Then, if the Watch is hearing about punishments . . ." Sakuya noticed Richmond in the corner of her vision, smile widening " . . . I think community service should fit the bill."

Argo and Jensen nodded sagely. Unsurprisingly, both Rio and and Richmond appeared to have the same reaction. Utter incredulity.

"Community . . ." Richmond began.

". . . Service?" Rio completed from across the tens of miles that separated Tristania from Arrun.

"Oh yes." Sakuya agreed casually. "We certainly haven't codified everything yet, so that seems appropriate. Since you littered, you can help clean up trash for a while. Hmm . . . Four weeks on cleaning detail should be enough for your guild members, and I think . . . twelve weeks for you yourself, Rio-san." She smiled, taking an unfair amount in his expression. "I think that should be fair, and keep you out of trouble for a while at least."

Rio began to work his mouth open and closed, struggling to answer. His Salamander Lieutenant, seemingly the only one who had realized how close they'd come to something much worse, slowly fell to her knees.

"That's it?" Rio stammered softly.

"Oh, I _will_ want to talk to you in private Rio-san." Sakuya made clear, the threat in her voice apparent to everyone. This sort of behavior couldn't be allowed to persist. "But other that, yes, that will be all. Detective Jensen, Miss Argo, excellent work." She paused, glancing over her shoulder at a seething Richmond. What had he expected her to do, she wondered.

"I'll leave the rest to you two." Sakuya decided, then thinking again. "I trust that you will be _cooperative_ with the Watch, Rio-san."

If he had half a brain, Rio would know to cooperate. If not, she'd have to send instructions later. If he really _was_ involved with Rip Jack, it would have to be decided whether it would be wiser to erase the connection, or bring him to trial. But what would justice be if, thanks again to Richmond, the only trial they could give was for show?

"As you wish, Lady Sakuya." Jensen bowed, Argo giving a small deep in turn.

The mirror glowed once more and then began to dissolve into a silver room was silent until the last of the spells effects had faded, the afternoon light spilling in through the windows.

"I hope you take note Princess." Richmond muttered darkly. "The Fae have some interesting notions of law, do they not?"

"If you mean like fair and equal punishment, then yes." Sakuya said in reply, she allowed herself to smile.

"Collecting litter is now fair punishment for Treason?" Richmond wondered out loud.

"I don't know about that."

The Lord Justice's eyes bulged as Henrietta thought out loud.

"It's true that Mister Rio spoke against Sakuya and other Lords, and what he has said about the Crown has been unkind to say the least. But that really isn't so different from criticism by the Landed Nobility." Henrietta tilted her head towards Sakuya. "So really, the punishment appears just."

Sakuya couldn't help but catch the small nod given by Mazarin. Whether he was proud of what Henrietta was saying, or the fact that she was stepping forward at all, Sakuya couldn't say. All she knew was that the man was undoubtedly pleased. The same could not be said for Richmond.

"And that is the difference, your highness. As aristocrats we stand above the lower peoples and are empowered render judgment. To spare discipline here is no different than to refuse to punish a mutt until it can no longer be properly tamed and must be killed. That," his eyes turned to Sakuya, "would be a failing of the master."

"And if you go near that 'mutt' or any of the rest of his pack." Sakuya said calmly. "You'll find that I'm quite the protective bitch."

If Richmond hadn't been angry before, then she'd finally managed to piss him off now. Mores the pity as she turned to leave. "You would stand against my ruling? You insolent girl, do you not know my rank?! I am the Lord of the Legal Collegiate! _I_ am Justice!"

"Justice?" Sakuya laughed like wind chimes as she looked Henrietta in the eyes. "If you think that Justice is something you can embody, Lord Richmond, there is no Justice, just us." She shook her head as she continued to the door. He could stew in that for a while. Now, she owed Alicia those drinks.


	25. Guiche de Gramont Hero of Tristain

Halkegenia Online v2.0 – Chapter 9

In the social life of a young aristocrat, association was everything. What circles one moved in, what events one was invited to, were paramount considerations. This was something that Guiche had internalize from a young age.

To be invited to a Royal Gala should be the highlight of any Noble's calendar. To be a guest of honor, receiving the personal thanks of the Crown for services rendered could be the defining moment of a lifetime. Such a boon would be seen by the powerful and noted by peers as a sign that ones career was destined to go far. In military circles, perhaps all the way to a generalship.

Fed on stories of bravery and heroism, half from his father, half from his brothers, long had Guiche held ambitions to make his reputation through gallant and noble action. An achievement to be proud of. A credit to his family.

And now, seemingly by accident, those ambitions would be fulfilled. He was to be given honors for his part in twice safeguarding the life of Prince Wales Tudor, humble though it was, and by keen observation, supplying the order of battle of the fleet stationed at York. Even his own brothers, accomplished Noble Officers of Tristain to the last, could not boast so much.

But now that he had attained the praise and admiration he had hoped for, it couldn't have felt more hollow. He was to be honored, yes, along with his father and the others who had fought at Newcastle and York. But his actions were hardly those of a hero.

To his shame, Guiche had not fought in the battle. To his greater shame, he was grateful for that.

In fact, circumstances had contrived to make his greatest contribution the simple act of stumbling about from one disaster to the next, when he wasn't cowering behind a waif nearly half a head shorter than himself. Other than that, all that he'd managed to do was survive, mostly by accident. And yet was to be congratulated, by the Princess no less!

It was one thing to receive honors for ones accomplishments, confident in the knowledge that one was deserving. It was another thing entirely to know that he was unworthy. But that wasn't how others seemed to see it.

A few short weeks ago, Guiche would have said it didn't matter so long as the mission was accomplished well enough. He would happily have taken credit, or so he thought. But since then, he had seen so many people more worthy than himself. Soldiers who had understood that they went to face death. One perhaps more than any of the others.

Yet he admitted to himself guiltily, he didn't even know her fate. Nor did anyone else it seemed for his efforts to discover the whereabouts of Miss Midori had come to nothing. If she had survived, she had disappeared back into the same shadows from which she had appeared, while he was left to claim credit for their mission unjustly.

It had gnawed at him endlessly these past weeks. Normally, it would have been bearable. He could ignore it so long as Newcastle was not mentioned, a difficult enough thing as his friends had wanted to hear every details of his adventure. Here at the Gala it would be impossible to avoid it. He dreaded it.

Guiche had not been his flamboyant self since arriving at the Palace, he had answered slowly when spoken to, accepting congratulations only reluctantly from his family's friends and political allies. It had of course infuriated Montmorency as she clung closely to his side, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and he was decidedly not using it to its fullest. But Father had not intervened save to take him aside.

His Father had noticed the melancholy of his youngest son almost from the moment they had set foot on the Palace grounds, arriving by Alvis Driven carriage at the special dispatch of the Crown. The iron horses had trotted in perfect unison under the direction of their mage driver up to the gates.

The Baron, normally strict with his youngest son, had softened ever so slightly since Guiche had returned from his first taste of combat.

"Chipper up Lad." Gramont the elder instructed firmly. "Today is for merrymaking, fine wine, fine food, and fine _women_."

His father added the final comment while looking appreciatively to the eldest daughters of Baron Malvin who were gathered with their friends at the near corner of the palace lawn. They were extraordinarily beautiful, contrasted brunette and blonde, identically full figured. Guiche was sure he could do something with that, something poetic and beautiful. But his heart wasn't in it today.

"I thought it was an opportunity to politic?" Guiche thought out loud.

That was of course how Monmon put it, always a deft hand when it came to social events, playing every angle like her own father and elder siblings. It was what had allowed the Montmorency's to recover what influence they had after the disastrous abuses of previous generations and was now need more than ever having been afflicted with the appearance of Fortress City of Gaddan right in heart of their ancestral holdings.

His father scowled. "Well, there is that too." He agreed with a last wistful look to the Malvins. "There is still some time I suppose, perhaps a walk around the grounds would do you well."

Guiche smiled weakly, not because he felt like it, but because it was expected and he couldn't bare to see his father displeased on a day he should be elated. "Of course, you are right." He said. "If you do not mind father, I shall take that advice."

He had departed his father's company as swiftly as he dared, finding Montmorency and retrieving her from a gaggle of other Noble daughters. She fumed at first to be taken away, but her mood cooled as they quickly found quiet away from the other party goers.

The evenings events wouldn't fully start for a while now, outdoor festivities to begin with. Their would be food and music of course, and a special display of fireworks courtesy of the Alchemists of the Capital and their Faerie associates who together claimed to have devised several new concoctions to astound and amaze the populace. Such things appealed to Noble and Commoner alike, and so most were waiting with rapt anticipation.

Only as the evening progressed would things move inside to the grand ballroom where an announcement from Queen Marianne was planned to take place. No one seemed to know the exact nature of the coming address, only that it was to be the climax of the evening's festivities. It was almost intriguing enough to shake Guiche from his stupor.

"Are you listening?"

"Hmm?" Guiche blinked a few times, remembering himself.

"I said," Montmorency shot him with a glare, "Have you been listening to a word I've said?" Her expression softened. "Or did you drift off again?"

Had he drifted off again? Guiche wondered. He supposed he had. What was the last thing he remembered her saying? Something about . . . about rosebuds he thought. It was enough to elicit a laugh which caused Montmorency to look at him with real worry.

One hand reached out, touching his shoulder gently. "Are you sure that you're alright?"

Ah sweet Monmon, so gentle when she was not being a firebox!

They were well away from most of the guests now, walking along a path partially hidden among the trees. The faint hissing of a distant fountain and the chirping of the birds was the only noise of note.

"Of course!" Guiche assured quickly, "Of course I'm . . . I . . ." He trailed off once more, turning away from her. " . . . I'm just such a damnably petty fool is all. A fool, and coward, and I . . ."

Warm arms encircled him from behind, head coming to rest against his back. He was frozen in place less by the restrain than by the action. "Then shush."

And so he did, only listening, and breathing until the pressure around his waist abated, Monmon's hands falling free. She turned him around, smiling up at him as she cupped his face in her hands. "Guiche de Gramont, you are the most pitiful, two timing, womanizing, cheat that I will ever have the displeasure of having the company of. But you are no fool, and you are no coward."

"Oh . . . r-really?" Guiche mumbled. "And how would you know if I am or not?" He averted his gaze. He didn't want to look into her eyes, didn't want to see the expectation that had been growing there.

"That's easy." Monmon assured him. "You can't be a fool, because you're scarred to death of dying in this war."

"And that doesn't make me a coward?" Waking in the night, screaming, exhausted from the terror that invaded his dreams? The sight of Captain Wardes placing his sword through the Prince Valiant, that blasted, smiling abomination on the docks.

The blonde water mage huffed under her breath. "And like I was going to say. You can't be a coward because you're still standing, even though you're terrified."

Guiche shook his head slowly. Did she really think that made him brave? "Hardly at all. It is merely what is expected of me. Father would have it no other way." He reached down, adjusting the cuff of his jacket. Embroidered in gold thread on the cuff was a stylized A and B, the seal of Auch and Benolit, the tailors that his father had been using since he himself was a young man and had almost religiously recommended to his acquaintances.

Where Montmorency was dressed in her best, pearl bracelets and necklaces, her ballroom gown, a flattering thing of white and soft aqua that gathered up at the waist before spilling down into a shimmering waterfall of skirts. Guiche had been instructed by his father to represent the martial traditions of the Gramont line as was fitting.

Having volunteered, or rather, been volunteered for the army, Guiche was permitted to wear the uniform of a Noble Officer. It was a sight that had filled his father with pride as he stood before the tailors mirrors, having the uniform expertly fitted to his thin frame. When at last the tailors had finished, he had looked every inch his father's younger self.

Coat buttoned, his scabbard as his side, no wand sword, not yet, though he was permitted the uniform, that symbol of a mage officer would have to wait until he had completed the abridged training courses at Champ de Mars. It would not be long yet, they would be starting their training in only a few days time as the first of the young aristocrats made their way to the Capital.

Although the future remained uncertain, the raising of the army had been made a paramount concern of the Crown. Funds had already been released to hire more mercenary troops to bolster the garrisons, or more rarely to raise troop levies, and the Navy had been placed at its highest level of readiness with every ship fully manned and ready to be brought under way with less than six hours notice.

The sudden expansion of the armies demanded officers. Officers to lead, and officers to administer, mostly among the lowest ranks. As was the tradition of the Nobility, young aristocrats had been called on by their sovereign to serve in the defense of the Kingdom, and that call had been answered.

Guiche had already received letters from his school friends, Malicorn and Reynard, that they would be among the first to arrive for training. He doubted they would be ready for it.

'Am _I _ready for it?' Guiche knew that he was not. Now that he had come so close to death, the idea paralyzed him. But like he had told Monmon, like the good son, his feet moved him forward not by his own command, marching him to meet his death. Because that was what was expected of him now.

"No."

"Pardon?" Guiche blinked.

"I said no. This isn't about what's expected of you, not really." Montmorency insisted. "What is it about you that's changed, Guiche?" She asked as if he could possibly have the answer. "You've been a quieter soul these past few weeks. Not up to your usual antics."

He chuckled softly. "I would have thought you'd have wanted it that way?"

"What I want," Monmon pushed herself away from him, "Is for my boyfriend to be himself! What happened? I know you haven't been telling me everything."

Finally, he looked her in the eyes, and realized that she wasn't going to take no for an answer, and unfortunately, he didn't have the energy for most of his evasions at the moment. Maybe he really should just tell the truth. That would be a new leaf for him. He'd always been an honest person of course, if one counted obviously lies as honesty.

"You won't like the answer that I have to give." He admitted.

"Try me." She was giving him _that_ look, the one that his Father said all women shared. Oh my, determined today, wasn't she?

"It's also difficult to explain." He warned.

"We've got a little time." Monmon said as she settled down on a bench beside the footpath. "They'll ring the bell before the start of things."

No escaping it then. Guiche grimaced as he followed Monmon to take a seat. "Well then, to start, it has to do with a girl." He squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for the inevitable cataclysm to follow. He was very surprised when it didn't arrive. "Monmon?"

"Go on." She insisted gently. He was faintly lost by the utter lack of anger anywhere in her voice and expression. "What?"

"Aren't you . . ."

Montmorency tilted her head. "Mad?" Her hands rose to play with her ringlets as she gave her reply some extra thought. "Hmm, let's just say I don't know yet. For you, a girl being the problem is normal, but the way you're dealing with it isn't . . . So keep talking, I'll start hitting you when it makes sense to me."

"R-right." He shuddered at that thought, Monmon had taken great care in selecting her jewelry tonight, that was quite a lot of rings she was wearing.

Luckily for him, Montmorency didn't decide to strike him at any time as he explained what had happened during his journey, or what had transpired between himself and Midori. Some things were of sensitive nature and he could not mention them to anyone beneath the ranks of his Father and Lord Mortimer, but otherwise, he left nothing out. Monmon remained silent until he was done, and even for a little while after that.

"So . . ." Montmorency let the word hang in the air. "Is she pretty?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." She gave a look of annoyance. "Just answer up honestly."

Was she? He couldn't help but remember that translucent skin, gloss black hair, her fragile features, most of all the utterly focused drive in her eyes. "Y-yes, Miss Midori is truly a beautiful girl!" He stammered quickly and then, caught himself, correcting. "Or rather, I should say that she is a beautiful person." Yes, that was a better way to put it. She was . . . was kind, and forgiving of even someone like him who had walked into a war with hardly an idea of what it really meant to fight and die. "Very, very beautiful."

"Prettier than me?"

Guiche blanched as he looked at Monmon, the water mage at his side was resting her head in one hand, wriggling the fingers of her free hand as she waited for an answer, smiling at her impossible question. "Ah . . . O-of . . . course . . . no-"

"Don't lie." Monmon warned him.

She really was making it difficult for him, he thought. Well then. "Not lying, the Noble sons at the academy would be crawling over themselves to court her." Monmon's eyes widened, and maybe it was only his bluntness that stopped her from punching him. "Not just beautiful, she was very different as well, I think maybe Rub Al Khali, most likely a half breed." Guiche shook his head. "But . . . I don't think you'll believe me . . . " He took a deep breath. "I'm not . . . attracted to her."

The reprisal was as swift as it was painful. Guiche's vision went black, and then blossomed into white and pain. "Gah!" He brought his hands up to his temple. "What was that for?!"

Montmorency hmmphed loudly. "Lying." Was all the reply she offered.

"But I'm not . . . I'm . . ." A hand raised in a menacing, closed fist. Guiche swallowed quickly. "Yes, I though Miss Midori was beautiful, but there was something about her . . . She was spoken for."

"And that suddenly made her unattractive?" Monmon sounded unconvinced.

"Well, no." Guiche admitted, cringing as her fist cocked back again. "I suppose, I found her attractive to start with, but it felt wrong once I got to know a little about her." But that couldn't possibly be believable, could it? He squeezed his eyes shut again, the next punch never came.

Monmorency now looked thoughtful. He couldn't fathom what might be going through her mind at that moment. Guiche's view on women was mechanical at the best of times, knowing which levers to use to produce the intended result. It worked well enough, until times like this where he had no hint of just what was happening.

He was about to test the waters with Montmorency when she spoke up. "What happened to her then."

"I . . . I don't know." Guiche confessed. "The last I saw of her was the night before the Newcastle evacuation. But I've heard no word from her since." Not that he should expect any. To someone like Midori, he was no doubt just a hindrance who had appeared in her life and then promptly left it.

But also, for someone like Midori, an agent of the Crown, and a secretive one at that, her lack of appearance might simply mean she had already been assigned her next mission. Or else . . . Or else she lay dead in the ruins of Newcastle, another anonymous casualty, while he received accolades for being knocked unconscious like a fool and left for dead.

If that were true, if ever fate led him to cross paths with Midori's husband and she had died while he had lived. How could he ever face him? Tell him that he had cowered gratefully while his wife died and that he had been rewarded for it.

"Tonight, I'm going to becongratulated for running inside and telling a traitor that his Griffin was stolen." Guiche pressed his palm against his forehead, laughing pathetically. "It was Miss Midori's quick thinking to give the Prince that Faerie portion, and her courage to do it while the King of Albion held a wand to her head."

And if the other rumors were true, even before that night, she'd used some sort of spell or artifact to conger some form of monster and beat her way through the siege around Newcastle. Saving Prince Wales once again along with Lady Asuna of the Fae. "Between the two of us, she was the hero."

"Yet father is pleased, my brothers are pleased. Why am I not pleased?" It was maddening, maddening, and now Montmorency was laughing! "What?! What is it that everyone else is seeing?" Guiche demanded at the top of his lungs. "What could it possibly be that is so funny?" Couldn't she see what this had been doing to him?

"I'm sorry, I really am sorry." Monmon answered, even as she failed to cease her giggles. "It's just that, it should be so obvious. But I never expected someone as lackadaisical as you to have this problem, Guiche."

"Then please, do explain it to me." Guiche grumbled, quite out of character for himself.

Montmorency laid her hand on his own, smiling all the while. "Guiche. I don't think your trying to live up to your Fathers expectations _or_ your brothers."

"I'm not?" If that were the case, it was news to him. "Wait! Then . . . Mothers?" She had wanted him to turn his talents to sculpting and Alvises like great grandfather had made, he thought seriously.

The smallest crack appeared in Monmon's smile. "Erm no . . . Guiche . . . The expectations your trying to live up to are your own, or rather Miss Midori's."

"What?" He shook his head. "Monmon, that's nonsense, I told you I felt nothing for her! And besides, kindness or not, he'd have had to been a fool to have convinced himself that Midori of all people had ever expected anything of him but to keep his mouth shut. "Ah, Monmon!" He realized too late that her smile had turned sad. "What did I say, my beloved?" Really, what had he said?! "I mean it that I do not love her!"

"I know." Montmorency looked wistful. "Or rather, I know that you don't love her that way. But you _do_ love her. You respect her, _admire _her. You can't do either of those without loving her in your own way.."

"I . . ." The sound of chimes echoed through the noon lit gardens, the announcement of the beginning of events.

Knowing Monmon, she'd what to return soon now that more people would be arriving. Being invited on behalf of her family to accompany him, the youngest Montmorency daughter would have ambitions of her own tonight. And sure enough, standing up, Monmon straightened her skirts and offered him her hand. "Shall we?"

Still, it puzzled him as they made there way back. Father was quite resolute in his opinion that women were the superior sex when it came to matters of the mind and of the heart, at least due to upbringing. For some reason father was always doubtful if it was suggested to be due to latent maternal instinct, very doubtful. Guiche shook his head, but that wasn't the point, just what did Monmon _mean_ that he respected Midori. As if he did not respect Monmon as well.

A woman's chastity, her dignity, and her honor were always be held in the highest regard. Never were they to be insulted without challenge. Whether that woman be Monmon, Midori, or even his own mother. Of course, Midori's case, she wouldn't him to defend her, between her force of personality and exceptional skill as a swordswoman, he could hardly imagine being needed.

But even if Monmon has some sort of point, and it was often enough that she in fact did, what good did it do him? What possible expectations could Midori have for him?

There wasn't much more time left to think on it as they returned to the Gala proper. In the short time they had been gone, the number of guests had easily doubled. What had started as a few modest groupings scattered across the grounds had now become contiguous, the circles constantly losing and gaining people as the gathered aristocrats traversed the lawn.

This was Guiche's first Gala, his father had gone to several in the past, but he had been far too young to attend at that time. It was about what he had come to expect. Most of the old Nobility were represented, the powerful families, the Vallieres, Aiguilons, Chalets , and the Tremoilles, and the less powerful such as the Montmorencys and Gramonts.

Between them were members of the younger Nobility, men who had risen to ranks of privilege within the last one or two generations. Status for them was conferred by ability so clearly and overwhelmingly displayed that it could not be denied despite lack of great lineage. They would be expected soon enough to marry into the high nobility, bringing fresh blood to Tristain's aristocracy as had been their duty for generations.

Count Woestte, and the Royal Messenger Lord Mott were among these, as well as others of the _Nobilis Militant_, members of the Dragon Knights and military officers such as Count La Ramee. Technically Guiche's own family would qualify for this last group as well, but old blood, political reliability, still counted for more than simple military service.

Everything was as he would have expected, save for one detail of course, that being the Fae. Easy enough to find, just look for the ones that stood out most. Lady Alicia whose presence far exceeded her diminutive stature, happily chatting up whole crowds. Lord Rute talking conspiratorially with Count Woestte, while Lady Zia of the Puca could be seen on the far side of the lawn, near the where the musicians had been set up, discussing something with the Duke de La Valliere.

Just how did one take the measure of a Faerie in any case? Weren't they sworn into service by the will of their people? Then they weren't proper nobility, not really.

"Ah, Guiche!" The sound of his father's voice turned his head. "I hope the air has done you some good."

The Elder Gramont was beckoning for him, standing with Count La Ramee and General Eugene, the gigantic Salamander General looking the very cut a military man himself in an Officer's uniform much like the one worn by Guiche himself, albeit let out for man of his considerable size.

It had been only proper of course. In the field, practical considerations held sway of course, but as both General Eugene and Lord Mortimer had been admitted as Officers of the Tristanian army, they would be expected to attend official functions as representatives owing fealty to the Crown. This extended to wearing the uniforms of Noble Officers. And so, the Salamanders had born with it, just as Guiche had, to have the blasted uniform fitted properly.

Montmorency's hand surreptitiously made its way into his own, and gave him a reassuring squeez. "Ah, better then when I left." Guiche offered, smiling a little more forcefully than he had before.

"Well then, why don't you join us for a moment." His father waved. "I'm sure you remember Eren from when he visited our home."

"Yes Father." Guiche nodded toward Count La Ramee. He did remember the Count, a less serious man all of those years ago. "But I was only a boy then."

"And a fine young man now." La Ramee observed. "With a lovely young woman on your arm, Miss . . . Montmorency I believe?"

"Montmorency la Fere de Montmorency." Monmon draped her skirts gracefully. "And it is always an honor Admiral. Tell me, mother says that your wife is doing well, and your youngest son?"

La Ramee's brows rose. "Why yes, both are well. We had some concerns this winter but he sprang back. Hearty as his grandfather."

"Then I am relieved on both of your behalves." Monmon smiled, and once again Guiche was reminded just why mother and father approved so highly of her.

And on the matter of family, Guiche looked about. "Ah pardon, but dare I ask where your brother might be, General Eugene?"

He hadn't seen any sign of the Salamander Lord, itself a concerning development. He'd of course heard about the news, that the murderer involved in the killing of Lady Sakuya's aid and two Defense Force Officers had involved a former agent of the Salamander Lord, but how this had been received by the rest of the Nobility was mixed to say the least.

Some had called for the crown to strip him of his title, while his supporters among the military, the Gramonts included, were backing him to the hilt. Between the two extremes, the rest of the nobility seemed to have assumed an observational stance.. Perhaps Monmon would be better able to decipher it.

"He'll be along soon enough." The General rumbled. "A matter brought to him by Captain Ephi of the Arrun City Watch required his personal attention at the last moment. He should be here within the hour."

"I should expect so." The Baron said. "He is to receive the thanks of the Crown tonight. Hopefully it will remind some of these naysayers of the great service he has already done for us." The Elder Gramont smiled openly. "As of course all of us."

"General of the Armies." Count La Ramee agreed. "Quite the promotion from a retired officer."

"I like to think I've been saving up to have one last war in me." The Baron said. "Guiche, I also meant to mention . . ."

"Yes?" Guiche's interest piqued.

"I thought I'd give you advanced warning." His Father smirked. "Your brothers have all arrived as expected. I imagine they're laying in wait for you around here somewhere."

"Oh." Guiche said under his breath, spirits sinking ever so slightly.

His Father nodded sympathetically. "Don't worry so much Lad, you've finally got a war story of your own under the belt. Maybe now you'll have some staying power." Despite his father's years, the cuff to Guiche's shoulder was much more painful than he would have ever expected.

"Well then, I best go find them." He decided, before they found him.

"I don't understand." Monmon whispered in his ear. "I thought you got along well with your brothers."

"That's it, I do!" Guiche agreed. "Reinhardt taught me the proper way to ride a dragon when I was ten, Axel's the reason I know one wit about how to survive and navigate in the wilds, and Erwin showed me everything I know for sedu . . . ueling." Geich corrected himself in mid word.

"Sedueling?" Monom's eyes narrowed."

"I said dueling, dueling!" Guiche corrected swiftly. Of course, he had taught Guiche that as well, but they'd had a lot more fun with the other one. He sighed. "The problem isn't that they're mean spirited, rather its more . . ."

"Do my eyes deceive me?" A thunderous voice caused Guiche to cringe. "Or have I spotted the baby of the family?" That voice could only have come from the cavernous ribcage of his middle brother.

"Axel." Guiche forced himself to smile as he was nearly run over in a bone braking embrace. Montmorency was left stunned as one moment Guiche was there, the next he was ten mails behind her, finally being put back down onto his feet. "Always wonderful to see you brother." Guiche gasped.

"Finally wondered out of the crib?" His Eldest brother, Reinhardt asked, thick blonde eyebrows furrowing as he squinted at Montmorency. "My, I do believe our brother has grown a little more masculine, just look at those arms!" He pointed to Monmon, grunting in pain briefly after as Erwin, the youngest of his Elder brothers slammed his cane down on his Eldest brothers foot.

"You're not that blind you old fool, and that joke wore out its welcome the first time you used it on Axel." Erwin said, stepping around his pained brother and gently cupping Monmon's hand, kissing it tenderly. "A pleasure my Lady, don't mind this old wind bag."

"That's _Captain_ Wind Bag to you." Reinhardt said proudly. "And you best remember it, _Lieutenant_."

"Lieutenant of the _Dragon Knights_." Erwin corrected. "That puts me level with an earth worm like you."

Reinhardt barked a laugh. "Perhaps in the depths of _hell_."

Unlike Guiche himself who had taken after their rather more slender and effeminate father, his elder brother had uniformly taken after their grandfather on their mother's side of the family. All three men were larger than life, which suited their reputations just fine.

Triangle of wind, Captain Reinhardt de Gramont, Commander of Fort de Arlan Garrison. Line of water, Commander Axel de Gramont, Captain of Her Majesty's Ship the frigate _Sibris_. And lastly, line of fire, Erwin de Gramont of the Dragon Knight Corps' third squadron. The accomplished sons of General Gramont, each living proof that the Gramont lines martial prowess would endure for another generation.

Guiche was proud of his brothers, fiercely proud, and naturally was bound by bonds of filial love to each of them. He just wished he could experience those filial bonds one at a time like the Founder intended. Having all three in the same place could be . . . overwhelming.

"Who might this be? Lovely Monmon is it?" Axel gave a bow to Montmorency.

"Monmon?" Reinhardt frowned. "Ah, Montmorency! I remember sitting you on my lap when I was just a boy and you were barely a knee high babe! You've become a lovely young woman, I can see why father would want to cuff some sense into our brothers head and get him to marry."

"It apparently failed with you, brother." Axel observed with a snort. "But of course we are forgetting our manners brothers, we've barely seen little Monmon since that day, and we can hardly expect her to remember us."

"Of course." Erwin said.

"Of course!" Reinhardt agreed, lightly prodding Guiche in the ribs.

"I'm not going to do it." Guiche narrowed his eyes. He wasn't.

"Do what?" Monmon looked to be between confusion and amusement.

"But of course." Axel said.

"Of course." Erwin said again.

"Of course." Reinhardt prodded Guiche one last time.

The youngest Gramont son sighed. "A horse!" He said in a loud voice, just below a shout, praying that this wouldn't carry too far and wouldn't get back to his friends.

His brothers collapsed against one another in laughter, even Monmon was giggling, thought he doubted she knew the story behind _why_ his brothers found it so funny. In fact, he prayed she didn't and _never would_.

And naturally, that was the problem with his brothers. All loving men, but forever convinced that he was their _little_ brother, perpetually in diapers and forever with his thumb in his mouth. Though he supposed it only made a certain amount of sense. That had been the arrangement when they had last all lived in the same home, before Reinhardt had been sent to academy, and then Axel after him. Which was likely why Erwin was the most reasonable of his siblings. Most of the time.

Introductions were made, drinks were found, and stories were passed around about what his siblings had been up to since last he'd heard from them. Naturally, their tales were a great deal funnier when given in person where all four brothers could comment and tease at their leisure. Reinhardt had been given the unenviable task of helping to whip the third and seventh companies of the Faerie Self Defense Forces, the Undine Volunteers, into fighting shape, a task that was proving more difficult than he had hoped. Axel only complain about his ship becoming a roost for Sylphs on patrol around Sylvain. And Erwin had nothing but stories from training up the Dragoons of the tenth Faerie Company to fly as part of their formations.

And then it had come time for what Guiche had been hoping to avoid. It was his turn to tell what he'd been up to. Of course they all knew, which meant there was no avoiding it. Which meant it was best to exaggerate and let them sort out the truth from fiction for themselves.

And he had exaggerated or even outright lied with gusto, the Traitor had been a sniveling rat the whole time, the stench of everyone in Gallia allowing them to smell the bandits before they ever saw them, that the food in Albon had been _good_.

But the one thing he hadn't been able to do, was exaggerate about Midori. Because, because _exaggeration_ would have sounded less rediculous.

A super humanly strong waif of a girl. A peerless swordswoman who could fight a whole team of mages to a standstill without breathing a single chant. Who had fought her way through the siege of Newcastle on foot and who had faced the enraged King of Albion without flinching, saving his son in the process. It sounded so unreal even saying it all again.

His brothers had laughed all the while. He didn't think they'd be laughing if they knew it was the truth.

"So tell me then, this little girl had to keep the nasty Reconquistadors away from our ickle brother?" Axel babied mirthfully.

"It wasn't like that . . ." Guiche ground out. No, it hadn't been like that at all.

"The part I don't understand is how this girl was supposed to be sword fighting a whole army of bandits." Erwin said thoughtfully. "That part seems a little bit much."

"It was a just a small troop." Who she had handled expertly, almost entirely on her own, without harming a soul.

"I do believe the unbelievable part would be that our brother would be in the presence of such a beauty and only try to court her once." Reinhardt said.

"She was married!" They all knew the rule.

"And her husband let her go off to fight?" Erwin asked. All three brothers nodded their heads sagely.

"I must say." Reinhardt stroked his chin. "The story would be more believable it it was something like great grandfather."

The three remaining brothers winced as one, Axel in particular for he had the great misfortune of being named for said great grandfather, or rather more blunt great grand_mother_. Axelle de Gramont, the only woman to ever carry the family name forward by imitating a man. A ruse marvelously executed by being so tremendously obese that no one had realized the truth until some time after her death, her bastard sons grown and well established as titled officers in their own right.

"It would explain why our young brother abated his attempts." Erwin agreed, chuckling not unkindly. Lifting a fresh champagne glass from a passing servant, he began to lift the fluted glass to his lips only to be stopped by a black gloved hand.

"I'm sorry. But I can vouch that everything you're brother has said is the absolute truth."

When that soft spoken voice reached Guiches dejected ears, he froze. Turning slowly, so slowly to face his brother and the ghost who had appeared as if by magic at his side. He was in fact so shocked that it took him a moment to recognize Princess Henrietta, in full ballroom regalia, standing a few paces back from the scene with a hand raised to hide a smile.

The impression of the girl was one of pure midnight. Slender arms adorned with long black gloves that terminated just short of her gorgeously bare shoulders. Slim neck wreathed in black pearls. Someone had done up her hair, someone immensely skilled by the looks of it, tied up loosely in a style that was just beginning to grow in popularity.

Gown of silky black, overlapped layers of fabric creating an effect that varied between totally opaque and veils of thick smoke near her feet. As a final artistic flourish, a sash tied into a giant butterfly bow had was rapped around her waist, the overall effect proving quite fancifully endearing.

Reinhardt stared. Axel stared. Guiche stared. Erwin stared . . . and managed to let go of his champagne glass. It had barely a split second to fall before the girl had it in her own hand, raising it to her lips. She smiled mysteriously, an expression that extended all the way to her dark, gold flecked eyes.

"M-Miss . . . Midori." Guiche felt like the world was dropping away around him.

The apparition nodded. "How have you been, Guiche?"

Monmon squeezed very tightly at Guiche's arm. "You didn't tell me she was _that_ pretty!" She hissed under her breath.

* * *

Poor Guiche. He's in a bromance and he doesn't even know it.

Poor Kirito, his platonic harem field has just been inverted .


	26. Reveal

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 9 Part 2

For a bunch of newbies with almost no law enforcement or legal experience to speak of, the volunteers of the Arrun City watch had nevertheless wasted astonishingly little time in installing themselves as a clear and visible symbol of authority. And for the most part, Argo mused, it had worked.

People were coming to accept this world and their changed selves as reality, and with reality came all of the normal expectations. Going to work every morning was normal. Hanging out with friends was normal._ Police_ were normal. So it hadn't really been that hard for the Watch to fill that gap in what people expected to see when they were walking the streets.

Professional looking Fae in highly visible dusters, armed with, swords, staffs, paralysis darts, and an arsenal of binding and debuff magic, were at once an imposing ans reassuring sight. More importantly, each Watch Officer prominently displayed a numbered badge marked with the Arrun City Crest, a clear reminder that these were the _police_ and they were here to enforce public order.

Appearances extended even further than that though. If you were going to have police, you needed a police HQ.

In the far off early days of weeks ago, someone who had ended up highly placed in what would become Watch had commandeered a martial looking Guild Hall on the corner of Arrun's main roadway where it fed into the square at the base of Arrun Tower. Since then, Watch Headquarters had become the place to come about disputes, lost items, thefts, or to pick up a friend who'd gotten themselves into trouble and been put in a cell to cool their heads.

Argo leaned up against a wall, Suisen on her shoulder replicating the gesture, outside of the questioning room. Or as Argo liked to think of it, the torture chamber. It was as good a name as any, after all, Rio would have probably preferred hell to what was happening to him now. She could almost make out his muted cursing on the far side of the door and it was enough to warm her blackened little heart.

There had been some major changes to the interior over the past month, Argo noted all of the desks, some occupied by watch officers. Posters with hand written instructions reminding officers of basic watch protocol had been put up on every available surface. And iron bars had been installed in all of the windows, not enough to stop a dedicated miscreant, and it wouldn't even slow down a strong Mage, but sufficient to deter petty vandalism, breaking and entering, or breaking and leaving.

Now that was going to be a problem. People like Rio and his guild were essentially cowards and were liable to do as they were told, albeit petulantly, once caught. The same went with most of the troublemakers the Watch had been dealing with. Petty thieves, bored kids, and the occasional drunk who had acquired enough alcohol to get more than buzzed.

But what would they do with Jack? Argo grimaced. That was, if he let himself be taken alive. A high level Fae with all of the strength and powerful magic that implied would be almost impossible to contain safely. There were single target spells that could be used to keep his mana pool drained, or maybe the Puca Song of Silence, but they would have to be applied constantly to prevent an opening. Short of binding him in chains and cutting out his tongue . . .

"Argo."

Suisen gave an indignant "Ba!" as Argo stood erect, nearly falling from her perch before regaining her balance with a flutter of her wings. Ears cocking, the info broker was shaken from her morbid thoughts by the return of Detective Jensen. Noticing the cup of hot tea in his hand, she snickered under her breath.

"What is it now?" The man grumbled suspiciously.

She answered back with a close eyed smile. "I was just thinking that Jen-kun really tries to look like a cop."

"Uh, that would be because I _am _a cop." The Undine rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his mug and then grimacing at the taste.

"Bad?" Argo asked.

"Nasty." He set the cup down on a nearby desk, conveniently making it someone else's problem. "Going to have to have a talk with the newbies who brewed it. So, ready?"

Argo bit off a curse. Being dragged down here and confined to a guarded basement cell, prodded with questions while his Guild Hall was ransacked by the Watch. Rio had not been a happy Sylph. An unhappy Sylph, was not a cooperative Sylph. And an uncooperative Sylph did not spit out much useful info, even under the intensive grilling that Jensen had dished out.

"How can he be this stupid sa?" Argo muttered under her breath, pearing through the iron barred glass. Rio was inside, seated at the rooms solitary table, a pair of Officers keeping an eye on him.

He had been making things difficult despite how close he had come to losing his head and the mountain of evidence leveled against him and his guild. Rio had finally learned to keep his mouth shut, and at the very worst time. Every question was met by the same stoicism, forcing Argo and Jensen to go about it the hard way, questioning the other members of the ABC one by one to fill in the blanks left by the hard evidence, the ones they could find anyways.

Publicly detaining a guild leader and seizing materials from within his Guild Hall was an unprecedented event and news of the arrests had spread quickly. Most of the Guild had come along peacefully, they were trolls, but underneath the facade they were ordinary people, mostly. But there were still a few unaccounted for, guild members that were close to Rio and most likely to be part of his inner circle.

That in itself was alarming, but the fact that nobody else other than Rio had a complete picture of how the vandalism of Arrun Tower had been performed spoke of a level of compartmentalization that Argo hadn't believed the Sylph was capable of. Or rather, that he would have the foresight to set up. Either he was a lot more devious than anyone but Mort had given him credit for, or he was being turned into someone's scapegoat. Given what she'd seen of him so far, Argo was inclined to believe the latter.

Jensen had really shown his credentials teasing info out of the other Guild Members while Argo put the pieces together, but even his patience had worn thin with the Guild Leader himself. Either Rio was calling their bluff, or he really was that stupid.

Her eyes turned to the Undine standing impatiently beside her. Sans sunglasses, the bags under his eyes were a reminder of just how little sleep either of them had managed to get. Argo stifled a yawn. When had she last slept? Sometime last night, she'd sat down to rest her eyes, just for a few minutes. When she'd opened them again, sunlight had been spilling through the window and Suisen was complaining about being hungry again. Now it was already early evening, a whole day spent sustained by strong tea, finger sandwiches, and catnaps.

The end result was that, a little over twenty four hours after his Arrest, Rio was still sitting inside of Watch HQ under constant guard while the Argo and Jensen had a half completed picture of the vandalism and no leads to how Rio had managed to learn a thing about Rip Jack.

Jensen raised an eyebrow. "You of all people really have to ask that question?"

Argo decided not to make the smart retort she'd been planning, a shame, because it had been a _really _smart retort composed of all the bile and cynicism she'd been holding in for the last few days. No, she didn't need to be told _why_ someone like Rio didn't crack like an egg. She watched him through the glass from the corner of her eye.

Rio was an idiot, but that wasn't all. He was a prideful little troll and wasn't going to admit that he'd gotten help from anyone.

'Prideful.' She turned that over in her head. Maybe it was time for a new strategy. They'd been slamming their heads against Rio's thick skull for the last day, alternating interviews with the other Guild Members before coming back to try and crack him with the new info they'd uncovered. Good cop, bad cop, offering him a deal if he told them what he knew, even teasing apart what they had learned and making it look like they knew more. It had gotten a rise a few times, but Rio had held his tongue. Maybe they could loosen him up a bit with that pride of his instead.

"I think I'm ready. And I've got an idea," she nodded to Jensen, "If you'll follow my lead that tis."

"Can't say I'm crazy about it." Jensen admitted with a small shrug. "But I'm running out of ideas here, so whatever you've got in mind, sure."

"We're going to have to tip our hand." Argo warned, whatever happened, Jensen needed to walk into this eyes open for it to work, they'd have to show a united front.

For an instant the Cop hesitated, she could practically hear the gears turning, waiting patiently for his answer. "He either already knows, in which case . . ." Jensen trailed off, in which case there was no harm done, and also, Rio became a whole lot more sinister. The Undine shook his head. " . . . or telling him might tell us something new."

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for." She explained what she had in mind, the plan receiving a small nod of agreement from Jensen before knocking at the door and entering the room.

Rio looked up as soon as they stepped through the door, his expression twisting into a scowl as he saw them both. Wasting all that energy being angry at them couldn't possible be good for his health. And after all that they had done had been to catch him in the act of a crime. Typical troll.

Jensen dismissed the other officers, instructing them to lock the door behind them and keep watch from outside. Then, the Detective's attitude completely changed. Slipping his sunglasses back on, Jensen dropped the look of exhaustion, he swaggered like a cop out of an old American crime drama.

"Mind if we take a seat?" Jensen asked Rio, gesturing to the two chairs opposite him. The Sylph shot the Undine a withering glare. "Yeah, we're going to take a seat." Jensen continued, offering Argo the first chair before taking his own, setting elbows down on the table top. "So, Rio, how have the watch accommodations been treating you? You get a comfy pillow?"

"Between you and your thugs," Rio growled, "I've been in here all night. My guild hall is a wreck, my _guild _is a laughing stock. Even if I'd been left alone long enough to sleep I would have been up all night in your miserable prison cell."

"Well that tis a shame." Argo decided loudly, reaching into her pocket for some sunflower seeds. She handed one off to Suisen as a snack and then popped another into her mouth. "We got lots of rest in our own beds last night. Real warm and comfy and everything. But I guess no rest for wicked nyeh?"

He shot Argo an incredulous look, snorting in disgust.

"Look Rio-san, you're the only one who is making this difficult, you can be out of here in less than an hour and on your way with the rest of your guild if you'll just cooperate. All we need from you is some information." Jensen said, leaning over the table. "We just want to know who told you about Rip-Jack so we can plug a leak. No big deal."

Rio replied with the same stony silence that he'd fallen back on for the past day. Argo had to suppress the urge to simply claw him until he gave them an answer. Instead, she tapped one sharp nail against the table surface as she waited for the right time to strike.

"Otherwise," Jensen went on, "When we figure this out, and we _will_ figure this out, it really isn't going to be looking very good for you. It'll be interfering with an ongoing investigation, and possibly conspiracy to commit murder."

The Sylphs eyes widened and then narrowed in anger. "Is this how the Watch is going to work? Intimidating people into confessions?! I haven't done anything!"

"Maybe." Jensen admitted. "Then again, maybe not. You know, getting all those supplies together and then moving them up to the top of Arrun tower without being seen must have been pretty tough. How did it work again?"

"The paint came from the new maintenance yard." Argo ticked off. The disappearance of almost two hundred pounds of paint powder hadn't gone without notice, but with everything else that was happening, no one had bothered to do more than a cursory investigation. After the banner had been unfurled on top of Arrun tower it had been pretty obvious in retrospect.

"And the canvas was from an old schooner sail." Jensen added. "Which is interesting because we don't have any of those, which means they were stolen from outside of the cities." The detective fished a small notebook from his pocket and flipped to the last page. "Interesting thing is, people keep track of when things like that go missing. We sent some officers to ask around the nearby towns, so we know it was a worn out spare that was going to be cut up for other purposes."

"That sail must have been really heavy to haul all the way here. Rio-kun must have lots of friends who helped him out." Argo agreed. "Of course, once you got to the waterways it was probably pretty easy. You just had to wrestle it through the underground until you reached the spot right under your Guild Hall." The large trap door beneath the ABC Guild Hall which lead directly into the sewers and the very same waterway that fed Arrun tower.

"And of course from there you just had to haul it all the way to the tower and in through the underground arcade." Jensen said. "Then you hoisted the sail up through a vent shaft in the middle of the night."

The interior of Arrun tower might have been well guarded, but prior to the vandalism, nobody had thought to keep regular watch on the exterior, especially late at night. Once the canvas had been brought up onto the roof they would have had all the time in the world to make it ready for the following morning.

"Then all you'd have to do is cut the lines and run." Argo finished triumphantly. "Actually, it tis a really smart plan. I'm impressed Rio-kun could put it together."

"All that proves is that we vandalized the damn tower." Rio grunted. "Because that's all we did!"

"But that's _not_ all you did." Jensen said darkly. "Lets look this over again. You stole paint from the city maintenance yard. You stole a sail from a warehouse in a Tristanian Market Town, you got both back to your Guild Hall without a soul being the wiser . . . And then you managed to get the whole thing up on top of Arrun tower without being seen." He shook his head. "I've seen the kind of pranks your guild gets up to. No way did you guys do that all on your own, not with that banner in tow. Which means you had help from someone, and I bet whoever it was told you about Rip Jack too."

Rio's nostrils flared as he half rose from his seat. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not working with that psycho!" The Sylph seethed as he settled back down.

"If that's true, then you shouldn't have any trouble telling us who told you." Jensen pushed. "Otherwise, it's going to be real hard to keep believing you. And seeing as a couple of your guild members are still at large, it's only going to get harder."

"Perhaps if the Watch hadn't decided on mass arrests, my people wouldn't feel the need to go to ground." Rio gritted out through clenched teeth. Argo was impressed, that sort of indignation was usually reserved for people who hadn't done anything wrong. It also appeared to be the last straw for Jensen.

Hands slamming flat against the table, the Undine stood slowly to his not inconsiderable height. Tall enough that Argo only came up to his chest. "Then I'm forced to conclude that you're a complete idiot."

That finally wiped the undeserved look off of Rio's face. The Sylph was left agape, mouth opening and closing stupidly like a fish sucking air. Argo would have given anything to have been able to take a screen cap at that moment.

"I'll level with you. The crap you and your guild has been doing. I worked in Ikebukuro and even my old department wouldn't have put up with this sort of crap. If it were up to me, you'd be sitting in a jail cell for the next three months. If you'd managed to spread those stupid ass leaflets, there was a small but real chance that you could have been executed for insulting the Crown. How would you explain that one to your Guild?"

"I know what the treaty says . . ." Rio tried to butt back in. Jensen didn't let him.

"Which is the only reason you're talking to us right now rather than Lord Richmond. Unlike him, we're forgiving people. Tell us what we want to know and you walk out of here with vandalism charges. It'll ruin your reputation, but we'll overlook the thefts and any conspiracy charges."

Rio was listening now, his lips trembled as if he was torn between speaking and holding his tongue. Now it was Argo's turn.

"Fu fu fu. Rio-kun has gotten himself into a lot of trouble because of his clever plan." She let that statement hung in the air, relishing the futile anger. "But the really clever one tis the person who helped you out."

Rio blinked quickly, looking from side to side, it was like a switch had just been flipped, like he'd just woken up from a trance. "And just what is that supposed to mean?" He asked angrily.

"It means, whoever told you about Jack probably knew you'd blab your mouth about his connection to Mort-kun." Argo crossed her arms triumphantly. "And don't tell you already knew. That isn't very common info." She shook her head, ears flattening to the sides. "I take it back, Rio-kun isn't very clever. He's the one who got duped into being a scape goat."

"A scape goat?" The Sylph squeaked out. "I'm not a damn scape goat! I'm . . . not . . ."

"Looks that way to me sa!" Argo smiled. "You absolutely hate Sakuya and everyone else who's in charge and everyone knows it. The murders gave you a tow hold on legitimacy, which you blew like and idiot. You knew about Jack at the most convenient time. You couldn't be better set up to take the fall if you tried." Argo stopped dead as she noticed the look in Rio's eyes. With every point she had ticked off, he had lost a little more of his fire, a little more of the undeserved anger. Now, he looked more empty and defeated than anything else.

"But you already knew that sa . . ." Now it was starting to make sense. She'd known he was prideful. But was Rio really _that _proud?

"Argo?" Jensen looked over to her. This hadn't been part of the script they'd agreed on. Time for some improve.

"Rio-san." Argo said carefully. She wasn't speaking sharply now, that wasn't going to get her anyplace with him like this. "Rio-san, you know you've been played don't you?"

The Sylph didn't look up, didn't look at anything really, he just looked like he wanted to sink through his chair and get to work on his own funeral.

Jensen finally caught on, following her lead. "Rio-san. You've been had, you have to know that. Why aren't you cooperating with us? You can save yourself."

"Save myself?" Rio whispered under his breath. "No . . . there isn't anything . . . there's nothing." But he didn't sound so sure.

"Even after all of this, your guild still looks up to you." Argo observed. "But that won't last if this comes out."

Despite the trouble they were in, Rio still commanded their respect. The ABC were all of like mind, a collection of people who were inarticulately angry at what had happened and so clung together around a charismatic leader. Even jailing them all hadn't been enough to break their loyalty.

But how many would forgive Rio if they learned he was just a mouthpiece? The little bit of influence he'd gathered would be snatched away in a heartbeat. There were people who would rather die than see that happen.

"Don't you get it." Jensen raised his voice. "You're still being used right now. Whoever told you about Rip Jack must have a connection to the murders and must have had a _reason _to tell you. They're counting on you not talking. They're counting on _everything_ your doing right now!"

"B-but my Guild! -"

"We couldn't care less about your Guild!" Argo said, she wasn't as intimidating as the Undine at her side, but a Cait stretching across a table was threatening in her own way. "We have every reason to think that Rip is involved with something big, something that threatens the whole treaty, and it could boil over at any time now. There's a lot more on the line than just your Guild nyah!"

Rio was rocked back in his seat, the effect couldn't have been more profound if Argo had slapped him. Good, that was what she had been aiming for. She hadn't expected him to just sit there wide eyed. "No, Rip . . . he's just some psycho isn't he? I just thought . . ."

"Look." Jensen finished. "You've got a choice right now Rio. You can say nothing, and keep being used. Maybe the truth will come out, maybe it won't. Or you can cut the strings yourself right now. I'm not in your guild, but I know what sort of Leader I'd like to follow."

The Sylph blinked, looked down at his hands. He was silent as he pinched at the skin between his thumb and index finger. "I didn't want it to turn out this way. I thought I could make everyone see. It's just . . . everyone is too in love with this!" He looked up accusingly. "Sakuya and the others, they're leading us right into this! How can everyone be okay . . . okay with sending people to die for a bunch of inbred tyrants!"

It looked like Rio was going to gain steam for another tirade, but then he began to wind down again. "Why do things have to be this damn way? Why do we have to meddle? Why can't we just be left alone?"

"The fly asks the spider the same thing ba." Suisen said, hopping down from Argo's shoulder, she walked the short space to the opposite side of the table and planted her hands on Rio's thumb. "Please, Rio-san, please tell us!"

Then slowly, Rio nodded. "But first, swear to me, swear this wont get back to my Guild. Swear it wont effect them in _any_ way."

The Undine and Cait shared a look. If that was the price, then Rio was selling this info cheap. "We'll come up with something." Argo promised, not that Rio seemed to be listening now.

"You're right, we did get help with planning the banner operation. We had some ideas, but we couldn't really pull it off on our own." He shook his head in disgust. "We really didn't know how to get started until he showed up to one of our guild meetings. I thought he just listened and left, but he came by the next day with some ideas."

"So you brought him in on the banner operation, and it got him in your good graces." Jensen concluded.

"There were a few other things after that." Rio corrected. "A few other jobs he helped us with. Little things like slipping supplies our way for our posters, or giving us some juicy bits of gossip that we could use against Sakuya and the others."

"That tis how you heard about Jack?" Argo asked quickly, come on, who was it?

Rio nodded again slowly. "He told me just before the interview. I didn't pay it much mind, his info had always been good before. I really thought he was with our cause." A hiss of exhaled air. "But that bastard, he's been using me this whole time, hasn't he?"

"Who?" Jensen asked. "Who is it?"

That was when Rio started to chuckled bitterly. "I wish I could tell you. But seeing as he kept himself hidden . . ."

"You'd got to be kidding me." Jensen facepalmed. "You're really telling me that . . ."

"I don't know who he was!" Rio began to laugh hysterically. "He always wore a helm or hood when he came around. I asked about it, he said he didn't want to have the watch hassling him if they found out he was helping us." A miserable laugh. "Guess that was the truth, huh?"

"And you believed him . . ." Argo shook her head. The sad thing was, the fact that Rio could be that gullible was actually pretty convincing. "What, did he tell you that you were his personal hero?"

"I thought he was sympathetic to our cause. So I didn't look to closely . . . I didn't want to look." Rio shook his head quickly. "It was before the murders even started, so I never thought much of it. But now, I'm sure he has to be someone who works in the government or mob patrols. He'd drop some gossip our way now and again, just little things, but we learned about it before it hit the streets, sometimes as much as full day."

"Anything else you can think of?" Argo asked. "Anything at all."

Rio knit his brow as if trying to recall something important. "I never saw him in flight, so I can't be sure, but I think he was a Sylph. The build was right, and with his skin tone, he was either a Sylph, an Undine, or a Puca. Other than that, I can't say." Rio spread his hands pleadingly. "That's all I know. I don't care . . . if you believe me. But please, I'm sick of being used, hunt that bastard down."

"Alright. We're done here." Jensen said softly. They weren't getting anything else out of the wreck sitting at the table now.

As Jensen hammered at the door for the guards, Argo gathered up Suisen, stopping just long enough to give the fallen Rio a small squeeze on the shoulder. She should have been angry at him for keeping this, but instead she couldn't muster anything but pity. Maybe if he was lucky, Sakuya would be very, _very_ forgiving.

Both investigators were out the door at a run, cutting straight through the office space amidst the protests of the other officers. They hadn't made it three paces before they stopped in the middle of the room. Jensen cursed under his breath. "And just what the hell do you want?"

Argo looked past the Undine to where another Undine Officer was arguing with another Faerie, a Salamander she'd have sooner forgotten.

"Jensen-san . . ." Vakarian offered awkwardly.

Argo knew that she and Jensen must have looked bad after days of little sleep, but Vakarian looked like hell. Like he hadn't slept since they'd seen him last.

"A bastard like you has a lot of guts coming back here." The Undine growled. "Why are you even here, weren't you ordered by Lord Mortimer to step down?"

Vakarian winced visibly before giving a slow nod. "I . . . was. And . . . I have. But that isn't why I'm here right now, or rather it is. I wanted to ask about the investigation."

"Not interested." Jensen grunted. "Someone who betrays his partners trust doesn't get the benefit of the doubt. Besides, we just cracked the last part of this." He cocked his head to the other Undine. "Irmin, get him out of here."

The smaller Undine placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, pushing the Salamander back towards the door. "Wait, Jensen. I was wrong, I exercised bad judgment and I can't ask you to forgive me." He brushed Irmin aside, holding out a small ledger. "I just want you to take a look at this."

Jensen looked down at the book, torn, before hesitantly taking it in his hands and flipping to a marked page covered in by now familiar hand writing. "Where the hell did you get this?"

"It's from Novair's office." Vakarian quickly raised his hands to ward off accusations. "I didn't keep it. When the investigation was done with Novair's office, we still needed everything he was working on. Mortimer didn't want me to have anything more to do with the investigation, so this was the best I could manage. Novair was involved with so much, I thought there had to be something, but I didn't know at the time until I saw this."

"And these are?" Jensen scanned down the list.

"Supply points." Vakarian explained. "Mortimer maintained them throughout the neutral territories for the skirmishers and our agents. They usually contain mission specific equipment and supplies in dummy chests. After the transition, hunting down these supply drops was a priority since the items in those chests would have spawned along with them, unlike our inventories."

"So Mort-kun was cleaning up his toys." Argo said. He might have lacked tact, but the Salamander Lords wasn't stupid in the least. He wasn't going to leave rare or dangerous items where anyone could just break the chest lock and steal them.

"And tell me, how does this have anything to do with the investigation?"

Vakarian nodded to the ledger. "Check the third, ninth, and seventh rows."

"Packages A35, A40, and A60." Jensen squinted at the ledger. "And then, all of them say that condition is 'Other'. What the hell does that mean."

"The rest are all marked with recovered or lost, right?" Vakarian gestured for Argo to lean closer as well. "Recovered means that the chests were found and returned to Gaddan. Lost means that they were in a part of ALfheim that did materialize in Tristain. I didn't know what "Other" meant until I went out to check for myself. And basically it was Novairs short hand for the chests being there, but empty."

"Okay, so what does that mean?" Argo pressed.

"A35, A40, and A60 are codes for assassination mission equipment." Vakarian explained as if repeating something he'd been told. "Usually, it was slightly above average equipment for Spriggan assassins to use while under Faction disguise so they could hang around the faction borders without being suspicious. These packs were located close to Freelia and were stripped of their Cait Syth clothing, supplies, and paralysis darts."

Argo sucked in a breath. Abigail's final autopsy report had found a small puncture wound on Liliana's neck, no bigger than a throwing pick. There had been suspicions, but now they knew for sure that at least one of Rip Jack's victims had been paralyzed before he delivered the killing blow.

"You think it was Rip?" Jensen groaned softly.

"Well I don't know, maybe it was some other psychotic assassin." Vakarian answered dryly, rubbing quickly at his face. "Sorry, sorry. That wasn't very nice of me. Haven't slept much."

"No, that's fine. So now we know he's up armed himself." Jensen handed the ledger back. "Good to know, we'll forward the information immediately. Any idea what else was in there?"

"Nothing more significant than that." Vakarian flipped to next page. "But _these_ two were also missing near Silvain."

"I10 and I11?" Argo read. "What are those?"

"Infiltration equipment, stealth cloaks, silent boots, and some rare perception boosting items. Hard to tell because the chests were completely stripped. All I can say for sure is that they were probably meant for sneaking in and out of Sylvain. Which is strange, this isn't the sort of equipment Mortimer would issue to a Spriggan agent, so I'm surprised Rip would even know about it."

"Can we just hope this is a coincidence?" Jensen groaned.

"Not a chance sa." Argo couldn't help but stare at the I10 and I11 entries. Stealth Cloaks were Sylph equipment, you needed a high level in Sylph affinity magics to produce them, and they were jealously guarded by the Sylphs so only handful ever ended up outside of the Faction's control at any one time. In fact, they almost certainly would have to have been supplied by a Sylph renegade or else someone very highly placed in the Sylphs prior to the Transition.

"Vakarian-san, have you shown this to Mortimer?" Argo asked swiftly, breath catching.

"Argo?" Jensen question.

"Just tell me!"

The Salamander looked confused but shook his head. "No, I mean to, but I only just got back from looking around outside of Sylvain. When I checked in at the Guild Hall, Mortimer had already left."

"Jensen-san, tell them to be quick with that moonlight Mirror, we _have_ to contact the Capital right now. And then we need to get going to meet up with Kii-bou and the others."

Jensen looked at her like she'd just done the stupid Cat Girl dance from those Soy Milk commercials. "What is it?"

Argo hissed under her breath. "I really, really hope this is coincidence, but if it isn't . . . then there is at least one more Faerie working with Jack. And," She tapped Suisen on the head, "Call it woman's intuition but they have to be involved right now."

* * *

The night of a Gala was a big event, even for those not invited it seemed. Or so it appeared to Louise as she followed closely after the other hooded figures stepping out unnoticed onto the torch and lantern lit streets.

The Petty Nobility, and even some commoners, lined the roadway outside the Palace walls, hoping for a peak at the carriages arriving now in a steady stream. Obviously they wouldn't be able to recognize aristocrats who stood far above their stations, but the crests of the great families were well known in the Capital, and no doubt, who had attended and who had _not_, would be talked about the following day and beyond as rumors inevitably got out by way of the Palace staff and servants.

Louise looked over her shoulder at the smooth, mage crafted outer walls that cordoned off the Palace Grounds from the rest of the city. She could have been inside of those gates right now, mingling with her peers at court, perhaps even at Henrietta's side. But feelings of responsibility led her away from that bright social center and towards a darker path tonight.

One that at least she walked with friends and allies to light the way.

"Having second thoughts, Valliere?"

Okay, friends, allies, and a Zerbst.

"I did for a moment." Louise tilted her head back haughtily. "But I didn't want to make you to feel left out Kirche, what being deprived of proper society in your homeland."

The Germanian's lips twitched and she quirked a brow. "You do know that I attended the Emperor's coronation, right?"

Louise hadn't in fact known that, but she wasn't about to back down now. "And I'm sure it was all very quaint, did your family offer him up their prized goat?"

"More like fifty heads of Dullahans from Uncle's prize herds." Kirche supplied helpfully. "Apparently Albracht was so pleased he formed a cavalry troop in honor of the Zerbsts. Very thoughtful wouldn't you say?"

"Then I'm sure you'd make a fine gift horse for one of them." Louise agreed, returning Kirche's smiled, "Or all of them."

"I could only hope!" Kirche winked lasciviously. "You know what they say about cavalrymen . . ."

Louise snorted, no, but she could guess. After all, if it came from a Zerbst it could only end in one thing. But tonight, these antics really weren't what was one her mind.

Kirche's smile softened into genuine concern. "Are you sure you're okay with this Louise? You know you don't have to come along."

"I know."

She didn't, Louise agreed, but it was the right thing to do. In fact, that was exactly why she had to do it. She felt bile rising as she walked ahead of Kirche and behind the others. So much of what made the Nobility deserving of their status was the things that they chose to do, and also, the things they chose to abstain. Such as not abusing their status to add to the misery of the Common People, and not betraying the trust of their Sovereign. Having confronted such a man personally, she could not rest until she saw him answer for his conduct.

Anything less left her feeling . . . unclean.

Louise reached for the small scrap of paper tucked into her pocket, KoKo's initial sketch of the seal she had glimpsed on the back of the letter passed between Terrance de'Martou and another conspirator, the man named Janglers who had swiftly stolen it away and left the inn as soon as he'd had it in his possession.

It had taken time to hunt down the meaning of the seal, it did not belong to any of the Old Families, nor was it a mark of the major trading houses. Rather, they had discovered quite by chance that it belonged to a Tailor's establishment, the A and B standing for the Tailors of Auch and Benolit in the Capital's Commerce district. That was the next link in the chain, the path to their next clue, and hopefully one that would bare fruit at last.

Especially now, now that the plot of the conspirators must be coming to a head. Louise eyed the cloaked figure that led their small procession. Lieutenant Agnes had assigned herself to accompany them tonight as a matter of vital importance, perhaps even seeing to the safety of the Princess herself.

Louise still couldn't quite believe what the second half of the investigation had uncovered. Terrance de'Martou, not merely a traitor, but a conspirator in a plot to assassinate the Prince Valiant and carry off Princess Henrietta. And taken in context with what had been learned elsewhere, the snatches of conversation Louise and KoKo had managed to hear, pointed to the possibility that this would also reveal more about the plot.

Louise shifted into a light trot, all the more reason to act quickly. Time was of the essence, and though the plot had been in part revealed, there was still much that had not yet been discovered lest they cause the spiders at the heart of the whole accursed affair to go to ground.

She took comfort at least, Henrietta could not be better guarded tonight with both the Manticore and Griffin Knights watching over her, and even mother present at the Gala, she was surely in little danger. But a little danger was not _none_ and if this lead could reveal anything more before the plot was set to begin, it had to be pursued swiftly and communicated back to the Palace at once.

Even the Faerie Lords had understood that, sending another Fae to bolster them tonight. A swordswoman, much like Agnes, but also quite different. Louise frowned as she noted the woman out of the corner of her eye, head turning swiftly, ears hidden by her cloak. Appearances aside, she was lacking somewhat in, how would it be put . . . Discipline?  
The Lieutenant hadn't seemed very impressed in any case.

And that a Petty Noble, whether human or Fae, could speak so irreverently! Even Kirche had been aghast at the way that she had casually referred to the Prince of Albion as 'Blondie', or at least, Louise thought Kirche had been aghast, she may have simply been bursting to hold in the laughter. Louise could never tell.

"We sure there's going to be someone in at this Tailor's this time of night?" Caramel asked, aiming her question at Agnes who could only offer a small sigh.

"It is located in the Commerce District. Most likely, the proprietor will have his quarters on the second floor. If not, there should be someone who we may ask his whereabouts. An apprentice or seamstress."

"Gotcha."

The Faerie pulled her hood lower, showing more care at hiding her appearance than KoKo who seemingly couldn't quite get her tail to obey and stay tucked under her cloak. Well, in the dimness it wouldn't be much of a problem, and with the festivities set to commence, they weren't confronted by many people in the back streets that they chose to walk.

The few that did approach turned away quickly enough at the sight of the two hooded figures brandishing very apparent swords. Faeries or not, the criminal classes would not be looking for a fight and instead continued on in search of easier marks like schooling fish parting from the path of a predator.

"Is it usually this deserted around here?" KoKo whispered in Louise's ear.

"How should I know?" Louise asked back. It wasn't like she frequented back alleys. Not of her own will anyways.

KoKo smiled apologetically. "Ah, of course Louise-chan is a good girl and wouldn't be out someplace like this at night. I was just thinking that you're sort of a native. Sorry."

"No no, it's alright." Louise gave it some thought. "The fireworks tonight are the cause most likely." She decided, pointing up to the narrow strip of darkening sky above them. "The Queen specially asked for the display to be made visible for the whole of the Capital." In fact, Louise had seen the barges being drawn out into the river that morning. It promised to be a remarkable display to mark the events of the Gala.

"She's most likely correct." Agnes observed. "It's a rare occasion for the Crown to hold a celebration of this sort. Naturally it should be made memorable to the people."

"That makes sense." KoKo looked up wistfully. "You know, it's been forever since I've gone to a fireworks festival. At least, it feels that way."

Miss Caramel snickered humorlessly. "Yeah, it's been a couple of years for me." Louise didn't understand the odd wince that KoKo gave at the other Fae's comment.

"A festival huh?" Kirche said. "I'm guessing they must have bee interesting in your homeland."

Both Faeries shared a knowing look. "They were fun alright." KoKo said, recollection tinged with nostalgia. "There was music and games . . ."

"I never could keep my gold fish alive . . . " Miss Caramel thought out loud to herself.

"_And then there was the food._" Both women said simultaneously, as surprised as anyone else the way that they had spoken in unison.

The swordswoman lifted a hand to scratch at the back of her head, almost as if she was embarrassed by the odd moment of syncronicity. "Yeah well, I had to run my butt off in track to make up for it!"

KoKo nodded sagely. "I dieted for weeks ahead of time so I wouldn't feel bad about eating as much as I wanted."

Diet? Louise wondered to herself. KoKo had explained the idea, but it still seemed impossible that having too much to eat could be such a widespread problem. Certainly there were fat noblemen, those who indulged to excess and of course those who a soft living was its own hardship. But fat commoners? Working men? Ridiculous!

Or rather, she corrected herself as she observed the two Fae continuing to chatter amongst themselves, just a sign of how very different their homelands were.

The walk into the Commerce District didn't take long, the main markets were located relatively close to the Palace, and most businesses that catered to the Nobility had their storefronts nearby or else along one of the many side streets that stretched away from the Market Square in every direction. By now the sun had set over the roof tops, the sky fading from pink to a deeper violet, the last storefronts closing early. No doubt the owners intent on celebrating the night in their own ways.

Louise couldn't help but think that the Inn would be doing marvelous business tonight. 'I could probably have made a load of tips.' She teased herself. Unfortunately she and KoKo had begged the night off and the request had been reluctantly granted.

But she did feel a little bad . . . for the deception. The girls, even Mademoiselle, had been kinder then she had any right to expect for her bungling efforts. Not even knowing her, they had given her a place to belong. She would have to find some way to repay them, all of them, something that would show that her gratitude was as genuine as their kindness.

They found the side street on which their destination was located, a narrow and winding alley that lead towards the river and the warehouses that lined this part of its length, where the barges would load and offload goods to be shipped by waterway, a more economical method than travel by airship within the borders of Tristain.

The foot traffic, already light, dwindled almost to nothing as they came upon the Tailor's shop, a two story building, wide glass windows looking in from the street on the workspace on the first floor. Louise took a breath as she looked up at the sign. The logo, an intertwined A and B, was exactly as KoKo had depicted it. And above the storefront, through a second story window, the weak, flickering light of a candle illuminated the interior.

"You know, it's possible this guy is _in _on the conspiracy." Miss Caramel noted casually, as if it was pertinent only now to mention as much.

"Possible," Agnes agreed, "But not likely. Miss Valliere and Miss KoKo heard comments to indicate that the proprietor is under duress." The musketeer shrugged. "If he does not know the circumstances of his extortion, then I cannot fault him for not coming forward. Besides, we've myself, an accomplished duelist, and two Fae with which to cow him."

"Yeah." The Faerie grumbled "Right until he decides to run."

"That's why we've got wings." KoKo chided softly, stepping past the two bickering soldiers and taking hold of the knocker. "If you girls aren't going to knock, mind if I go ahead?" Agnes gestured for her to do as she pleased.

As the knocker struck, Louise was silently grateful, while she, Kirche, and KoKo were operating in the relative safety of the Capital, Tabitha and Botan were still out in the country, helping to keep watch on the conspirators that they had discovered at de'Martou's estate. She could only hope they were safe.

* * *

"Yggdrasil-sama . . . give me strength."

Another impact, another tremble, another flash of pain as her aching shoulder struck the unyielding surface of her prison. More than anything, Botan wished she could lay down, she felt so tired, her lungs burning in her chest. But she couldn't stop, if she stopped, she didn't think she'd be able to get started again, and then . . . and then she would die . . . and lots of other people along with her.

That was why she was doing this, wasn't it? Waiting instead of racing to find leads, risking herself and gambling the fate of her sisters on behalf of the Kingdom of Tristain.

Botan had watched these past weeks, and listened, and learned, more than she ever could have known. Just how vast the world was, how many hundreds of hundreds of hundreds of_hundreds_ of people that existed in it. And how both the Fae and Nobility saw her and her sisters.

She had learned, that as bad as the Nobility might be, as cruel as humans like Fernand and de'Martou were, there were ones that were worse. Ones whose very image of the world would demand that every trace of ALfheim down to the last shoot, blossom, and Pixie, be erased or enslaved to their will. Ones like Lord Cromwell of Reconquista.

If Tristain fell to Albion, then their would be no safe place anywhere in the world for her or her sisters. The Faeries at least could be sent into exile and take their chances as nomads, but the small lives of the Gardens were inextricably linked to their homes and could be born nowhere else.

"The strength to preserve myself and my Sisters . . ." She stumbled back, giving herself what little distance she could to pick up speed before throwing herself once more at the barrier. Again she rebounded, and again she moved a bare hairs breath closer, closer to the edge, and closer to the drop that would either free her, or kill her

" . . . the wisdom to guide me on the right path . . ."

Desperation drove her now, desperation, and what she had seen beneath the country manor of the traitor and poacher Terrance de'Martou.

Almost there, just a few more pushes, she could already see the floor, far, far below, through the clear bottom of the glass. " . . . And the fortitude to see it done . . ."

It had all been up to her, to do what only she could do. The mansion was surrounded now, a hidden cordon of Royal guards, Faeries, and even a Faerie Lord to keep watch on the conspirators, ready to take action at a moments notice.

Botan had been filled with approval when she had seen the Faerie contributions, a small team of Sylph skirmishers, an Undine healer, a pair of Imp casters, three skilled Cait Syth trackers, and a trio of Spriggans led by Lady Morgiana herself. The presence of the last had renewed her confidence, the Spriggan Lord was everything that an Elder Sister ought to be and just as impatient as Botan herself to end this awful mess.

But still there was danger, the Royal Guards were not so numerous that they could afford to heavily cordon the perimeter, not without their absence elsewhere drawing suspicion. The Fae were likewise limited. Although keen of eye and swift of foot, the Faeries were unable to fly lest they draw attention from the mansion, and their magic was less suited to probing beneath the earth for signs of movement in the way that the mages could.

There were gaps in their perimeter, Botan understood why, but she didn't like it.

The idea of treachery, or assassination, it had taken time to wrap her mind around it. If she were still un-blossomed, she doubted she could have understood it at all. The idea one would turn on their home, it was alien, _evil_. And the ideas of how to fight it made her no more comfortable, sneaking about rather than walking in the light, lying, and spying rather than confronting the Traitors in the open. This was not the way she knew things should be, and her heart rebelled.

But if it was to be this way, she had thought she would have to bare it, if only for a little while longer, and do the most honorable thing she could think of.

So long as the conspirators could seek refuge underground, there were still places that they could hide their secrets. But there were few places that remained off limits if you were small, and you were determined enough.

Her obsessive exploration of the manor had finally born fruit just a few days ago. In the supply room adjacent to the stairway leading underground, she had found a place where a faint air current wafted up, carrying with it many of the scents she had smelled during her brief exploration of the safe room with Kirche.

There must have been a leak some time during the winter months, snow on the roof melting from the cooking heat of the adjacent kitchen, water dripping in from above and then freezing on the cold floor near the outside walls. The years of neglect had given icy fingers time to work their ruin, separating stone and mortar, splitting rock, until, at last, a narrow fissure had been opened, barely wide enough for a mouse. Barely wide enough for Botan as it turned out.

She had surged with excitement as she realized what she had found. Her past attempts to return to the underground had been thwarted time after time. Only the tunnels provided an alternative means of entry, and they were just as impenetrable thanks to their labyrinthine layout and many gates and doors.

It appeared that the de'Martou estate had been built over the ruins of a much older fortification that had guarded this area centuries ago, and over the years, the foundations and tunnels of that previous construction had been restored and added to so that the escape tunnels infested the entire area like mole rat dens.

The earth mages had assured Lady Morgiana that they had uncovered all of the exit points, but there were a worrying number of places where the tunnels plunged deeper into the rock strata and it could only be guessed what was down there.

When Digby had started to gather up the others, ordering them down into the 'safe room', Botan had seen her opportunity. Watching them with desperate voirism, the Vespid Knight had grown familiar with the mages, their habits, and their routines. This broke from the normal pattern where only a handful would go down into the safe room at a time, and if beings were like Pixies and other animals, then that definitely meant something was about to happen.

Following them through the door wasn't an option, Digby closely watched each of them as they descended the stairs, giving the treacherous Faerie assassin a doubly hard look before gesturing for him to continue on his way. The corridor beyond descended straight down into the safe room, there would be no place for her to hide. That left only one other option.

And so, not knowing what she would find to report back, Botan had climbed down into the dark, squeezing into a place that no Pixie ought ever go. Claustrophobic blackness closing in on her on every side, so dark that she was blind with only hearing and smell to guide the way.

Judging only by the distance she had traveled and the noise from ahead, Botan had been forced to correct herself, the space was not quite enough for her to squeeze through. Not without a good deal of discomfort anyway.

Privately, she was quite pleased with how her blossoming had turned out, she was even taller than Kigiku, which had mattered quite a lot to her when she'd been a Little Sister, though now she wasn't quite sure why. On the other hand, she sucked in her chest until she felt like she would implode, the slighter Knight would have had an easier time making it through this place.

"Just hurry up with that." Digby instructed from around a curve in the chasm ahead, lit by flickering candle light. "We're already behind schedule as it is."

"Don't be such a bother, 'Old Boy'," The voice that Botan had come to associate with the Faerie Assassin answered back, "Once we're down in the corridor, it'll be a straight shot just East of Tristania. Though mind the antlions, it's spawning season!"

Grunts and gasps from the other mages were followed by a loud cackling and the sound of a hand striking fabric. "I joke of course . . . they spawn all the time."

She tried to suppress a shiver. Rip Jack was the only one here that scarred her. She despised the mages, what they stood for, and respected their power to kill her if she was discovered, but otherwise, they were just beings that she was here to observe, learning about them so that she could complete her mission.

Jack was different, erratic, she was never sure if what he did was with purpose or done on a whim.

Sometimes, he would simply stand in a corner, waving his hands about as if there was something there that Botan couldn't see. Other times, he would murmur under his breath while sitting in a stupor until someone walked along to speak with him about something specific. Mostly, he simply slept through the day and much of the night, unless he was needed for something. In which case, the others would wake him very, _very _carefully.

After a while, Botan had figured it out. Jack was a Direwolf hiding in a pack of dagger dog mutts, and the rest of the pack knew it. There was only one other who dared to court him, either a Wolf himself or maybe Kidfox.

"Some lot of elite troops you all are." That one was Chadric again, sounding confident as always, a lot more confident than Digby, even though he insisted he was _just_ an actor. "I do believe Miss Isabella and I could manage this well enough on our own, if you'd all like to run with your tails back to the good Lord Cromwell."

"I do believe Monsieur Jack is simply trying to up his rate again." The dark haired water mage, Isabella purred.

Another laugh. "Can't blame a man for trying!"

Botan peaked around the corner and into the gloom. It was like she had thought, they were all here now. More importantly they were _all_ here now, standing together among the crates and boxes, leaning over the table illuminated by mage light. She'd been able to catch snatches of conversation here and there, but the different mages were seemingly divided into groups and only knew a very little about the greater plan. And almost always, whenever it got really good, Digby would find them out and berate them. It had never left her with any answers, only more questions.

Nor had the Fae or Tristanians been able to figure it out either. Frustrating!

Now though, they were all gathered for a meeting, talking in hushed voices, swiftly, and with Digby's approval. And the air, the scent of sweat heavy with pheromones, fear, anger, an edge of fight or flight instinct waiting impatiently to be let out.

She had to hear this, had to see everything. So cautiously, carefully, Botan found her way to the mouth of the crevice and out into the room itself. The opening was near the back of the room, everyone had their backs turned to her. If she was going to get closer to see what was going on, now was her chance.

A short hop, wings spread to slow her fall, and needle sword at the ready to sink into surface of the wooden crate. She was completely concealed once more by the shadows. Just a little further, through these gaps, and she would be able to see from between the boxes that a bored looking Rip Jack was leaning against.

She crept closer, the Nightcrawler scent of the illusion Fae filling her nostrils.

"You three are being compensated more than handsomely for your services." Digby grumbled. "You shouldn't complain."

"Mmm ah, perhaps, but then again perhaps not." Jack leaned against one of the crates. "Unless you'd like this whole plan to fall apart. I'd say we've been rather instrumental. Crucial even, savvy?"

"Tch." Digby reached for his sword-wand, eliciting a quick retreat from Jack who raised his hands easily.

"Now now 'Old Boy', no need for that! Naturally I'd be happy to have it bumped a bit higher, but I'll be happier still when I'm payed."

Oddly, between the two, Digby was the only one who seemed frightened, Rip Jack was relaxed all the while. The Mages sensed it too, Digby nodded slowly, more to reassure himsel. "First, lets see if your man is as dependable as you claim, leaving this until now . . . "

"There wasn't much of a choice." Isabella said as she opened a small box that she had set on the table, extracting an ornate, silver ring. "Getting just this much was difficult enough, more might have raised suspicion. And," she raised the ring to the light, holding her wand close to a blood red gem at its center, "Even with powerful magic like this, you saw how quickly they rot away with the other blood, and that has been with all of my talents." Breathing a chant, the gem began to lose its color, revealing itself for the miniscule crystal orb it was as a thin stream of vivid red fluid was drawn from within like a streamer by Isabella's magic. The water mage glanced to Chadric. "Are you ready?"

"As one ever can be to walk into a den of lions." The 'Thespian' said, extracting a crystal orb from a nearby sack and taking an offered seat cross legged atop a stone bench.

Without further comment, he placed the tips of his fingers carefully against the orb and pressed inward firmly, the crystal surface resisted at first and then began to give way, his hands sinking in to the palms. Small flickers of light began to flash across the orbs surface, from Chadric's palms, burrowing down to its dark center and then vanishing.

Carefully skirting the table with the red streamer following behind her, Isabella waved two of the other mages aside, hardly noticing Jack at all as she came to stand right next to Botan.

A flash of fright. Had she been seen? But now, Isabella was looking up beside her to the contents of a crate. It was the figure she and Kirche had seen before, the Golem, or mannequin that had been left partly unpacked in straw, its doughy white limbs hanging lifelessly at its sides. Now, almost completely unpacked, Botan could see the pegs that suspended it from beneath the arms, holding the Golem erect.

Isabella reached out, cupping the featureless ovoid of a head with a look of affection. "To think we've had to go through this many just to get it right!"

"Isabella." Digby grunted.

The water mage sighed. "But of course."

Returning to her chant, Isabella pointed her wand at the forehead of the Golem, the bloody red streamer obeying, striking the surface and burrowing inwards until it had vanished. Nothing seemed to happen for a moment, but Isabella's chanting continued, growing more forceful with each word.

The orb in Chadric's hands flashed and the Golem's crude hands twitched and then twitched again, closing spasmodically into fists and then beginning to split and separate. The gripping pad squeezing itself into four, meaty, sausage like fingers that thinned and flowed. The changes reached upward, the forearms straightening and stiffening to only bend at the elbow, and then the upper arms going rigid to rotate solely at the shoulder. The process repeating from the toes of the feet, splitting and bending at ankle, knee, and hip.

Another flash from Chadric's crystal ball, a sympathetic hiss of discomfort. The golem trembled, taking its first step, doughy flesh peeled from the surfaces of the holding pegs as it stumbled free from its crate reaching its hands to its featureless head. It doubled over as if in pain.

Watching, it was like the sculptors Botan had seen working in the Market with Louise. The Golem was reducing, shrinking down, body taking on definiton. Physique emerged from indistinct flesh, muscle, vertebrate, genitals, fingernails, lips, nose, eyes and ears. It was a like a statue was coming to life, and becoming more and more lifelike with every breath.

In the shadows, Botan leaned forward, the mages did too, everyone was trying to see. Or so it seemed, almost everyone . . .

Botan's first and last warning was a sharp, painful tugging on her wings as she was pulled bodily back through her hiding space. A Little One would have screamed, anyplace else, Botan would have screamed too. As it was, it took all of her restraint not to raise her voice as the scene spun away from her and into shadows.

By the time she understood what was a happening, she found herself hanging, wriggling like a worm on a hook before a pale, hatchet faced Faerie. She was frozen in terror. This close, she could smell Rip Jack's rancid breath, even tell what he'd last eaten. Eyes like dirty gold studied her, free hand reaching up to pluck away her sword before she could regain her senses and stab to free herself.

"I thought my perception skill had been acting up. That _buzzing_ in the walls." He whispered seemingly to himself.

She looked past Jack fearfully, only to realize that in the space of a heartbeat he had snatched her from her vantage and slipped into a shadowed corner, out of sight, and out of mind of his mage accomplices still watching whatever was happening with wrapt fascination.

"And what do was have here? Do my eyes deceive me, or do I have myself a little Pixie Girl wondered off from the nest?" It took all the bravery she had at that moment not to answer, instead shooting the Spriggan a hateful glare as she squirmed.

The anger was good, it let her forget that she was terrified. Of everyone here, the mages would simply kill her. But Rip Jack . . . she didn't _know_ what he would do. Squish her like a bug, or pull her wings off?

And then it sank in, beyond the personal danger, failure, complete _failure! _Her incompetence, her stupidity! And with it, the horror of her mistake. She trembled as she felt her limbs going limp in defeat.

"Still, strange for you to spawn here of all places." Jack muttered to himself, glancing over his shoulder. "I suppose you're some sort of Quest NPC then. Like the other Noobs kept for themselves."

Botan's head shot up. Others?!

"Where are they? Where are they?!" She half shouted, small voice not carrying far, and blessedly not carrying over the the sounds of Isabella's fevered chanting. Not that it could matter now, but she would not stop until the life was finally taken from her. "What did you do with them?!" And why was he using those words, the ones that Yui had asked her about before?

The Spriggan starred at her blankly, and the his smile widened victoriously. "So you are part of that quest! Wonderful. Those Noobs must want the loot for themselves." He looked over his shoulder suspiciously. "Should be interesting anyways, but this is a well paying job so . . . What to do . . . What to do?"

"Monsieur Jack?" Digby was calling, seemingly for the firs time aware that Jack was missing from the group. "Monsieur Jack, where have you run off to now?" Under his breath, as if somehow thinking the Spriggan couldn't hear, digby added, "You blasted crow!"

"What do think? Amusing myself, 'Old Boy'." Jack rolled his eyes. "I've already seen this done enough times helping Isabella-san and Chad-kun, nothing new to me."

"Whatever." Digby grunted. "We need you to verify the likeness. And don't tamper with anything!"

Sighing quietly, Jack looked around the small space, the rows of bottles and specimen jars until he found one that was empty. Without another word, Botan found herself flicked unceremoniously into one of these jars, the lid screwed tightly and returned to the shelf. "That should keep you until I get back." She heard Jack say in a voice muffled by the bottle.

Cut off from the world by a clear barrier that might as well have been an impenetrable wall for all her ability to pierce it. Beating her fists against the glass of her prison, Botan had never been more humiliated.

"Marvelous work as always Isabella." A cool and unfamiliar voice was heard above the murmurs of the mages, echoing distantly against the lid above her. "Only a shame that I cannot work the wings."

"Perhaps you lack the instincts for it." Isabella's voice replied. "It is likely just as how Elf magics cannot be used simply by duplicating the form of an elf. Or perhaps you can learn to use them, but not in the time we have now."

"I wouldn't bother." Jack said as he returned from the shadow alcove to the group. "This one's hopeless at ever managing it."

"So?" The cool voice asked. "Does it pass muster."

A moment of silence. "Seems convincing enough to me. Gotta admit, that magic is totally hax."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Monsieur Jack." Isabella praised.

"Enough of this!" Dibgy interrupted. "We've no more time for delays. It worked, wonderful. The Gala proper starts in only a few hours, even with the shortcut through that blasted Faerie terrain, we must leave now to make it to our rendezvous. Wyatt, take your team and make sure that the escape path that little worm de'Martou has secured for us stays clear. There can be no mistakes."

"But isn't that a job for Janglers and his men?"

"And you trust a Tristanian to do the job?" Said with a note of contempt. "No, I want this done properly. We must be out of the city and disposed of that . . . thing that Chadric is puppeteering before the Royal Guard has time to make sense of it."

"Then I should hope you keep my body safe and close enough for me to keep control of this puppet, Old Boy." The cool voice said.

"And what about de'Martou?" The one who had answered to Wyatt asked.

"As if it isn't obvious?" Digby said out loud. "Once he's served his purpose, kill him."

"NO!" Botan shrieked within her glass prison, perhaps glad that she could not be heard. She needed the traitor alive. If he died before she could rip the next clue from him, then it was all for nothing. She almost didn't hear the rest in her despair.

"Now then, you all know your parts. Our agents are in position on the barge. The Fae have been most proud of their contributions to the night's display. And finally, Monsieur Jack, the last part of your contract."

"Yes, of course." Rip jack chuckled. "You want the real one taken out of commission."

"Swiftly." Digby confirmed. "If your man could get us his blood, then I'm sure his information about the route that he will take is accurate. Go to the team we've stationed along the road, make sure that he and his guards die tonight and that no word Reaches Tristanian ears. It would be most inconvenient for us."

"As you wish, Old Boy." Rip Jack snickered softly. "Oh, and Chad-kun, while it's nice of you to prove what they say about Salamanders, perhaps you should put your pants on now. I do believe Mart-kun went to a lot of trouble to get that ensemble for tonight. Ta ta!"

The sounds of foot steps, of rustling and of people leaving, but not by the way they had came, echoes growing fainter as one by one, the mages filed though the door that lead into the escape tunnel. The last through were Isabella, Digby, and . . . a second Faerie, Botan grimaced, as she saw him from her hidden vantage. A Fae male, she didn't think he would be unattractive by the standards used to judge males, dressed in a uniform like the ones preferred by the Tristanian army. And at last, a Golem, though not the one she had seen earlier. This one in no way resembled a human, Fae, or Pixie, but instead was armless, pot bellied, with four small legs that had to work furiously to keep up at a waddling trot.

At last they had disappeared into the darkness, the door shut and locked behind them, leaving Botan in a near catatonia. Only when the echoes at last faded was shock replaced by something more productive. Rage!

She had shrieked until her lungs were horse, beating and striking the walls around her until her palms and fists had been raw, until at last reason had started to return. She had to get out, she had to tell that Spriggan Elder Sister what was happening, had to tel everyone what she had seen.

That thing, the second Faerie, it . . . she didn't think it was a Faerie at all . . . or a Golem really . . . but what? It was important! And they'd said something about the Royal Guard. The attempt had to be tonight. Worse, they'd mentioned . . . mentioned a corridor!

The corridors, deep passages that ran along Yggdrasil's roots, often for many kilometers, the upper underground that lay above the domain of Jottunheim and separated the world of light from the domain of the evil gods. If de'Martous tunnels had found a corridor then it would possibly be too deep for the Earth Mages to detect. They'd never know!

Desperation had set in, and desperation had driven her purpose. And quickly, she had discovered something worse. She had less time then she had expected. The air was fast growing hot and humid, stifling with every breath. The lid above her head was opaque, no screening, no air holes. This wasn't a prison, it was coffin! And with every second she was using up what little air she had left.

And damnably, it was a coffin she could not break free from. Not with her strength, and not with her magic. A Wind Shrike would have shattered the glass, or burst the lid, but in these confines, doing so would smash her own body to jelly in the back wash. Using a flame spell would do much the same, if it didnt use up her air first.

That only left gravity, and the long fall to the floor, and the dim hope that she would land just so not to be sliced to ribbons by shattering glass all around her.

She didn't know how long her efforts took, long enough she supposed, long enough for the air to grow painfully thin, until she could barely even think save for the litanies she had committed to heart. Inching, further, blow by blow, until one last push sent her over the edge.

Botan felt herself grow weightless, but by now she was too weak to care. She pressed against the lid, and then, like a kick, there was a shattering of glass, slices of pain, and a rush of blessedly cool clean air sucked greedily into her lungs.

The Vespid Knight turned over, gripping at her arms as rivulets of blood streamed from lacerations, the legacy of two close calls with shards of glass, a third that might well have decapitated her if she had still had the strength to brace herself. She didn't waste any time counting her blessings. The fresh air returned enough of her senses and strength.

In the darkness she saw nothing, but she heard distant foot steps, a sentry left behind to keep watch no doubt. They must have heard the braking glass. By the tame the heavy iron door was grating open, Botan was already worming her way back up through the crevice, back to the surface, to light, and to her allies. They had to move quickly or they would be too late!

From crevice to the store room, and from there through the ceiling to a gap in the thatch on the roof of the kitchen. Fresh air, real fresh air this time, almost caused Botan to faint and she had to pause to take her breath and her bearings. First, Triage, she couldn't risk flying while she was still losing blood. Whistling in a shrill note for Schwartz she turned to her wounds. She'd lost her sword, but Rip Jack hadn't thought to take the Willow Wasp Stinger knife she kept in her boot. The serrated implement blade was enough to cut off strips from her skirt and tie a rough bandage. That would do until she could make her report . . .

A shadow passed over head, not Schwartz, too big and coming in too fast. Botan looked over her shoulder to see the ugly silhouette of a hawk. Not an archeopterror, not a feathered dragon, not even a proper Spirrow, a native Tristanian hawk, raking its talons forward as it saw a tempting bit of pray laying out on the roof in the noon light . . . 


	27. The Face of the Enemy

Just going to warn you all that the chapter following this is a nine part monster that took as long as Dunkirk to write. -_-

Chapter 9 Part 3

Wings granted the players turned Faeries the power of flight, and with that came an exuberance born of being freed from the ground below. Although shaky at first, even the players turned Faeries who had never experienced unassisted flight in ALO had since taken to the skies like fish to water, or perhaps more accurately, birds to the skies.

Beyond the simple joy of taking to the air, there were tactical advantages to flight as well. Faerie troops were not limited by the terrain in the same way they had been as land bound humans, enjoying a level of personal mobility that could not be matched, even by elite ground cavalry.

But there were limits to this power as with anything. And limits had to be kept in mind, as unwelcome as they might be. Lydia, Commander of the Salamander Knights, thought to herself as she flew beside her fellow Salamanders. Less than a hundred feet beneath them, the road snaked on through forests and fields, never erring in its progress towards the Capital City, Tristania in the fading evening light.

They could have flown higher of course, but then they would have risked losing the road, their most convenient method of navigation, in the oncoming darkness. Besides, it was a security consideration that all Fae on official business log an intended route of travel, most easily identified by the roadway to be followed. This helped to keep track of where everyone was, and also where to send search parties if something were to happen.

Not that they would need a Search party. There were very few things in this region that could threaten a seasoned Faerie Knight, much less a party of five. Lydia, three of her subordinates, and Lord Mortimer himself.

Face hidden behind the draconic mask of her light weight armor, Lydia took advantage of the anonymity to closely observe the man she had decided to think of simply as her 'Lord'. Dressed in a Tristanian officer's uniform, he looked much more martial, more professional, than ever before. Flying resolutely, eyes fixed on the path ahead, Mortimer didn't seem to pay her any mind. Which was the way that she preferred it.

At first she'd had her doubts of course. They all had, about Mortimer, and about themselves.

But whatever talent the Salamander Lord possessed that allowed him to weld together an unruly faction of unorganized Gankers into an almost martial institution within the game world of ALfheim online had proven to be no fluke or trick of game mechanics in this real world. The Salamanders had flocked to Mortimer in ALO because they wanted to win the game. Now, they continued to respect him and his talent, despite naysayers, because they wanted more than anything to survive.

And so it had become Lydia's own resolve to make certain that he survived to keep the rest of them alive. It was strange, comforting, to have something bigger than herself to live up to for once in her life. If only she'd been able to find that in the world of her birth, maybe she wouldn't be here now.

She wondered if that was how men like General Eugene and Lord Mortimer thought of it. Did Mortimer think of it at all? Or did he simply detach himself and view everything as a cold equation to retain his sanity in this insane world? If so, how alone must he feel? Even worse after the slanderous bile spat out by Rio. The solitary figure flying just ahead and to her right offered no clue of which it was.

"Do you have something to say, Commander?"

Lydia blanched behind her mask as she realized to her horror that she had been staring. At least the mask would keep her subordinates from seeing her blush. "Apologies my Lord, I grew distracted." She searched quickly for something to change the topic. "I do hope we make the Capital before night falls completely." She eyed the distance still left to go and decided it would likely be another two or three hops after their next touchdown so long as they maintained an economical cruising speed. "If you don't mind me asking, just what did Commander Ephi want to talk to you about?"

"I couldn't tell you." The Lord of the Salamanders admitted without looking at her at all. "He never arrived for the meeting as he was meant to. I simply received an apology note that needs had taken him elsewhere. "I imagine it had to do with security procedures. He has been making a diligent effort in bringing himself and the other watch Captains up to speed."

That was true, Lydia thought, he'd been quite meticulous about learning procedure when last she'd seen him, and almost annoyingly insistent that everyone else follow said procedures for their own safety.

"Still, it's strange that he was taken away at a time like this." Lydia stopped to correct herself. "I mean to say, with the situation as it is, I would have imagined he would be seeing to security matters."

"That may well be exactly the case." Mortimer said, was that humor in his voice? Bitterness? "But I doubt very much that he or Sakuya would care to tell me."

Lydia cringed. "Because of Rip Jack?"

"Because of Rip Jack." He agreed solemnly. Lydia was struck by the unfairness of such an accusation.

The Salamanders of course had sided with their Lord. Mortimer had always done right by them, both in ALfheim and in this new world. A blunt man who didn't try to deceive them with flowery words. Although rarely a welcoming face, he was honest, always explained the necessity of any hardship.

But people were expecting him to be perfect, infallible, and happily blamed him for things beyond his ability to predict much less control. If she heard one more drunken spiel, she swore she was going to deck someone.

There was silence between them for a time, and then. "Tell me something Lydia."

"My Lord?"

"Do you think I have mishandled the situation with Sakuya-san?"

Silence once more, and then, "I think . . . it's time to us to land, there's a clearing up ahead."

Setting down, Lydia had direct her subordinates to spread out and keep watch while their wings recharged. There shouldn't be anything to do dangerous in this area, it was well traveled route and frequently patrolled, but there was no sense in not showing caution. Besides, it reminded the men to remain professional at all times. It reminded her to do the same.

Pulling off her helmet to let short silver hair fan out. Lydia watched over Mortimer personally, standing next to the Salamander Lord as he leaned against his cane, deep in thought. Eyes closed, she'd though she'd managed to evade the problem until he spoke again. "You still haven't answered my question, Commander."

"My Lord . . . I . . ." This was not a topic she had been expecting to ever come up when speaking with Mortimer. Perhaps with General Eugene, but she suspected that Eugene could more than hold his own with women. He did, after all, have a quite open preference for that Spriggan amazon.

Mortimer sat upon a rock along the side of the road, waiting patiently, they had ten minutes while their wings recharged, enough time that she couldn't dodge the question. "May I speak freely?"

"I was under the impression that you and everyone else following me does everything of their own free will, including your conviction to call me your 'Lord'."

"Ah, well, yes." So he had noticed, she thought. "To answer your question though, I need to know. When you ask how you've handled Lady Sakuya, do you mean as a fellow Lord or as a woman?"

A small frown, the closest thing Lydia had ever seen to a scowl on Mortimer's face. Most of the time, it might as well have been nothing but a mask. "You mean to say that there's a difference?"

"Er, well . . .Yes." Lydia was mildly surprised that she had to explain this. "You do understand women, don't you?"

Resting his cheek against one hand, Mortimer snorted. "I do believe if I understood them I would have been married by now. As you were saying."

Lydia needed a moment to compose herself before continuing. "As a leader, you've conducted yourself admirably my Lord, save for the mishandling of the Rip Jack incident." Which Lydia placed as much of the blame on Vakarian as she did their leader for an honest mistake. "Sakuya-san should have no reason to complain in that regard."

"Then what about as a woman?"

Giving the question some thought, Lydia decided to answer honestly. "Frankly, you've been a complete jerk." That this actually seemed to surprise Mortimer, more to the point, that he was even able look surprised, was probably a sign that this conversation had been coming for a long while.

Rubbing slowly at his eyes, Mortimer looked up. "Meaning? I've been perfectly cordial."

'Cordial isn't the same thing as considerate.' Lydia thought, but she wasn't going to get into that right now, too many headaches and not enough time.

"Lady Sakuya has been under a great deal of stress lately my Lord. But the death of her friend, and also the pressure of dealing so often with the Nobility . . ." If only for that alone, Sakuya had Lydia's undying respect. "She must maintain her persona in public at all times, but you are her peer and should be trusted with more of her private thoughts. Sakuya-san should be able to be more open around you, and the fact that she cannot may be fueling some of these feelings of enmity between you."

Mortimer blinked exactly once.

That expression, Lydia thought, was maddening. She couldn't tell if he'd comprehended a thing she'd just said.

"I don't seem to have this problem with the other Lords." Mortimer decided.

"Well, Lady Zia is much more a representative than a leader from what I gather." Lydia thought out loud. "Lady Morgiana certainly doesn't allow her status to affect her social life. And Lady Alicia is well . . . " She shook her head. Alicia was just Alicia, whatever that was.

"And I suppose the men don't count then?"

"No, men have the same problem." Lydia disagreed. "In my experience they're just less aware of it."

"Is that so?" Mortime asked as if he was about to say more. But the questions never came. As they stood in silence, Lydia was left to realize that it was the longest conversation she'd ever held with Mortimer.

Wings at last charged, they'd ascended back into the evening sky, continuing their trek towards the Capital. The wind was picking up at altitude, she noted. And, looking Northward, the clouds were moving in slowly. It would be a race to see if they made it to the Palace before the clouds arrived.

"Looks like a rain storm." Flamberg noted. "Hope it doesn't his until after the fireworks display."

"I wouldn't count on it." Lydia said, folding her wings back and increasing speed to keep Pace with Mortimer. "We should . . ."

"Hurry? Yes I know." Mortimer agreed, picking up the pace.

That was when they saw it. Far ahead, the first thin columns of smoke rising along the roadside.

"What is it?" Mortimer asked as Lydia gestured for the entire part to slow down. The Salamanders hovered in mid air, wings lightly spread for balance.

"I can't say for sure." Lydia admitted, squinting until her enhanced perceptions took hold, resolving the distance between her and the source of the smoke. "If I had to say, its . . . wagons? A trade caravan by the looks of it."

They were in trouble in any case, wagons strewn along the side of the road, ransacked and overturned. The source of the smoke wasn't clear from here, but something must have set fire.

Maybe an ambush by bandit mages. Tristain's high proportion of magic users also mean a higher proportion of Nobility who had fallen from their stations to become criminals. It was a unique problem faced by both Tristain's own garrisons and the Watch Patrols.

"I don't like it." Flamberg decided. For someone who could speak the rapid fire babble of a speed chant, the big mage was remarcably methodical most of the time. "I thought this route was patroled."

"It is." Mortimer confirmed. Most likely, he had comitted that fact, and who knew what else, to memory. "But that doesn't mean there aren't bandits who would take a calculated risk. More patrols means more chance to be caught . . ."

"But it also means fewer mobs to contend with." Lydia concluded. She could see why that would be tempting.

In the first days, the mobs had made quick work of the outlaws unfortunate enough to be taking refuge in the forests bordering regions of ALfheim influence. The native orcs had suffered much the same fate as they were supplanted by things that were much worse, or at least more powerful and vicious.

At least Dark Dwarves and Conen Sidhe didn't sneak from the forests at night to steal children as their next meal. She hoped.

But the danger posed by the mobs had been enough that the surviving criminals and brigands had found their way towards the better guarded roads, even if the risk was greater.

"We should divert around it for now." Lydia decided. "We'll lodge a report once we it to the Capital and they can send out a patrol to check for clues." If another group of bandits had moved in along this road, it was best that they be rooted out quickly or they would cause trouble for the Traders traveling between Tristania and Arrun.

"No wait." Mortimer squinted, frown deepening ever so slightly. "I can see movement, not sure if its a person or . . . "

"It is." Flamberg agreed. "Looks like survivors, one, two, three . . . They're not moving much, probably hurt."

Mortimer nodded thoughtfully. "Then we've no choice but to render what aid we can."

The Knight Commander looked aghast at the idea. "But my Lord . . ."

Mortimer raised a hand to silence her. "I understand, but our treaty does require our forces to offer aid when needed."

Again, maddeningly, Mortimer was correct. As guards to a Faerie Lord, the Salamander Knights were counted as a martial instituion and bound by the treaty to give aid just as if they were members of the Watch on Patrol. Barring pressing business, they could not refuse.

"I still don't like it." Flamberg grumbled. "We're going to be late as is."

"It'll be okay." Dio said calmly at his side. "Lydia and I have experience with healing spells, we can touch down and check while you guys hang back."

"My Lord?" Lydia turned to Mortimer, in the end, she would abide his decision.

A small nod. "Do it so that we can be on our way. But be careful, the people who did this might still be around."

Advancing as a group, the two sword users descended on their own while the Mages kept guard at altitude. With three living gunships in the skies above them, they would have little to fear, even if the bandits were still waiting to launch a surprise attack.

Nevertheless, Lydia's eyes scanned the treeline and the gloom of the forest beyond. Coming to ground was a uniquely uncomfortable sensation, it meant sacrificing the space and freedom of the skies. Sometimes that was good, allowing one to go to ground, but right now, it just felt like she was being watched.

"Strange they'd be this far out so close to nightfall." Dio cautioned, resting one hand easily on the hilt of his Executioner's Sword.

"We've no idea how long they've been here." Long enough that a shattered lamp had managed to catch fire to the edge of one wagon, the hay bails smoldering as oil slowly soaked and burned. That was the source of the smoke at least.

"Anyone who can speak, are you alright? Can you tell us what happened here?" Lydia shouted as she took a slow step towards the nearest victim, a man in singed clothing, half burned, face blackened with soot. He writhed in agony as she approached.

A glance over her shoulder to confirm that Mortimer was still safe in the skies above and that Flamberg and Kyo had them covered, and then she kneeled down beside the man to see what she could do.

Even now, the sense of deja vu hadn't completely subsided as she called upon the stolen knowledge that she'd woken with in this world. A small part of her mind observed as she clinically began to list off what would need to be done to stabilize a burn victim. F

"Sir, can you hear me? Sir?" But man hissed through gritted teeth, cringing and twisting about. He obviously couldn't hear, or was in too much pain to listen, but basic decency still compelled her to tell him what she was doing as she began to hold him down. "Sir, I need you to hold still so I can see how bad . . ."

The impact was more surprisingly than painful, her shoulder was wrenched sideways by a brief, intense blow accompanied by a ringing like a bell as her armor absorbed most of the energy. It was however enough to throw her off balance from her crouch.

An instant later Lydia had to shut her eyes as she was dazzled by a wash of flames erupting right in front of her, covering her face with her foreams by reflex. Thankfully, here Salamander heritage granted her some protection, enough to turn what should have been third degree burns into a light singing and a close call.

She jumped back, drawing her sword as a shrill whistle echoed through forest around them. So it had been an ambush, just not the type they had been expecting.

"Hahaa!"

Spinning her head, she saw one of the 'victims' stumbling to his feet, releasing a triumphant shout as he thrust a wand towards Dio's heavy armor.

The effects were somewhat less spectacular than the man seemed to have anticipated, Dio took a staggered step back, a thumb sized dent at the center of his chest the only mark that he'd been struck at all.

"And that was supposed to do what?" The Salamander Knight asked loudly as he drew his sword, wings materializing menacingly from his back as if to inform everyone who didn't already know that they'd just picked a fight with a Salamander.

Lydia flourished her own sword as she stood to the bigger Knights back, counting the shadows moving through the forest, at least ten, including the decoys on the ground. And on the ground was where they would stay.

Lydia kicked off as soon as she had regained her senses, climbing barely three feet before her upward progress was reversed, sinking back to the ground as an incredible force weighed down on her shoulders. Three of the bandits, standing beneath the cover of the forest had leveled wands and were chanting as once.

Wind mages, Lydia thought, between her wings and legs, she was stalemating them, refusing to fall to the ground. But she couldn't move, in fact, could stand, and judging from the curses originating at her side, Dio was caught in it as well.

"This is your only chance." The burned man mocked as he wiped away the soot to reveal and unblemished face. He raised his want to aim through the narrow slit of Lydia's helm, the armor wouldn't help if he shot her there. "Die."

The mage was interuppted in mid thrust as a concusive blast shook the earth, a fire ball blossoming beautiful at he center of the trio of mage pinning Lydia and Dio in place. The pressue vanished at once, and Lydia moved immediately to put her freedom to good use.

The mage in front of her jumped back in an attempt to gain space, not enough though. The silvered edge of her blade bit into him and through him, spraying bright red blood that she barely noticed in the surge of adrenaline.

Fear didn't cloud her mind at that moment, nor did anger, or hate. This was simple, clinical, the purifying red of flames rather than the unclean tinge of blood. Everything that she saw at that moment was fact, stripped bare of any emotion. This was how she had survived.

The strike had come from above, Mortimer, or one of the others, the heat behind her was enough to tell it hadn't been the only one. Insane, insane to use such powerful spells so close to their own allies. Mortimer must have been counting on their armor, innate resilience, and a good deal on his own skill to free them from the attack.

The attack which was much too well planned, she noted, rising into the air and trading fistfulls of flame with one of the mages beneath her. It was ruined now in any case, the mages on the ground running in ever direction, trying to spread out so that they could fight back and erect barriers to ward off the next wave of bombardment.

"Lydia, Dio, off the ground now." Mortimer barked as he began the long winded chant of his signature Firefly Barrage. Kyo and Flamberg had switched to status buffs in preparation. Good. They'd wipe this batch of bandits away in one swoop and report the run in to the Capital.

Dio cursed as he slashed at the shackles erupting from the earth. He'd tried to take to the skies, but mages were seemingly desperate to keep him when, Dio overcame his bindings, chains catching and sliding over his armor as he crushed the unprepared Earth mage between a tree trunk and his armored shoulder, they should have been eager to let him go. Yet they kept figthing.

'As if they want us to pay attention . . .' Lydia realized almost too later. Turning her eyes to the heavens, she let out a shout, inarticulate, It didn't matter, its singular purpose was to warn Mortimer.

Something was above him, something small, black, and fast, plumetting through the darkening sky in a terminal dive. Either Mortimer had seen it himself, or more likely, he'd drawn the same conclusion as Lydia at the same time.

Spinning around in mid air, Mortimer thrust his cane upward. Firefly Barrage was a wide area bombardment spell, it wasn't really the best spell for the job of striking a single fast falling target, but the sheer number of explosive packets shooting into the sky would be a hazard in their own right.

At their combined closing speed, most of the shots were dogdged, bursting behind the plummeting figure as he spread his arms to decelerate, smoke like wings erupting from his back. He spun about to reoreint himself, revealed at last as he seemingly struck a ridiculous pose, one hand holding down the brim of his fedora while the other brandished a vicious looking short sword.

'Rip Jack!' Lydia slammed into a climb, trying to put herself ahead of Mortimer. The air seemed like a wall in front of her, tearing at her, dragging her down, not letting her make it in time.

There was no time for a second spell, even a speed chant, Jack was directly above Mortimer, looming like a wraith with a bad sense of humor.

Lydia burst past Kyo and Flamberg, there fast chanted barrier spells weren't going to be enough. Jack saw his opening, he took it, a spinning strike to slash across Mortimer's stomach. With only fabric to protect him, Lydia knew it would open her Lord up from groin to throat if it landed.

"No!"

There was the expected sound of tearing, the sickening snick as blade met flesh, tracing across Mortimer's chest, and, metal striking metal. A sound that it seemed even Jack hadn't been prepared for.

Gritting his teeth, both from the exertion of his last ditch guard and the pain of being grazed across the chest. Rip Jack's jagged black blade had struck on something thin and silver near the handle of Mortimer's cane, and even as Lydia watched, the silver light grew longer, Mortimer withdrawing more of the hidden sword from its sheath.

A small part of Lydia was impressed. Even she hadn't known about that. A sign of the depths of Mortimer's paranoia, even if it might have just saved him. Bought him a few seconds as she and Dio closed in.

Jack looked surprised to be locking blades and then smiled, wings stretching towards the sky in a powered dive, forcing Mortimer to struggle just to stay in the air. They were almost there!

"Flamberg, binds now!" Lydia shouted. Anything else would risk hitting Mortimer. But it didn't matter if they could immobilize _both_ of them.

"Right!"

Jack saw them coming, a rapid fire flash of runes, they were entrhalled in darkness.

"Damn it!" She heard Flamberg shout. "Kyo, dispell it!"

Lydia could see the faint glow of the support mage going to work on the illusion spell, but they didn't have time for him to break down a smokescreen cast be a high level illusion master. The shoult of pain drove little to dive downward, crashing through the bottom of hte smoke screen just above the tree tops.

Just ahead of her, she could see Mortimer being driven downward, sword locked with Jack as he plummeted into the forest under the cover of spell fire from the bandits, no, the assassins, below.

Without a moment to think for her own safety, Lydia followed.

* * *

Being the son of a celebrated General, the latest in a long line of superlative strategists and tacticians as a matter of fact, Guiche was expected to possess a modicum of tactical acumen. As such, when confronted by an unexpected turn of events, he carefully took in his surroundings, weighed his options, and assessed his current position to be untenable.

Rear lines compromised by a volatile and potentially untrustworthy ally, Montmorency torn between a look of rage and disbelief. His left flank was . . . shaky at best, Axel was too busy leering, and Reinhardt would be too if he could see an inch past his own nose. Right flank was entirely untenable as a gaping Erwin stumbled to introduce himself. Guiche had never seen his brother making more of a buffoon of himself, but, to be expected given the beauty in front of him. In any case, no help could be counted on from those fronts, no reinforcements to bolster his position

And to his front, Miss Midori in all of her formal splendor, gown shimmering in silky blackness. No, not just her appearance, the fact that she was here at all.

Guiche thought he would have been relieved, perhaps even overjoyed. To see her again, alive and well. But that wasn't what he felt now. Not at all. Conflicted.

Without supoprt, his resolve a shambles. A temporary withdrawal would be the best plan. But the question was how to disengage successfully . . . he surreptitiously looked for openings and found one in Montmorency's empty hands.

"Erm, Monmon my love?" Guiche said as sweetly as he could. "You wouldn't perhaps like a drink? I do believe I just saw a servant and . . ."

"Not thirsty." The young water mage said swiftly and with a note of hostility that made him cringe. Then, stepping past Guiche, she looked Midori over from head to toe, eyes lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. "So Guiche, aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Yes brother." Erwin managed to compose himself, a gobsmacked grin spreading across his face. "_Do_ introduce us!" Wonderful. They were going to make the rest of the evening perfectly insufferable.

"Well, erm . . ." Quickly, some way to politely untangle himself from this, he looked pleadingly to his only remaining avenue of escape, Miss Midori, for assistance.

The Swordswoman either misunderstood his silent intent, or else hadn't forgiven him as completely as he had hoped. Smiling serenely, the pale girl gave the smallest of courtesies. "How do you do. I am Midori, a personal servant of our fair Princess. It is my honor to meet the brothers of my traveling companion at last." Standing straight once more with demure tilt of the head. "And you would all be?"

"Erwin de Gramont, the handsome brother." Erwin offered with a roguish grin, taking one gloved hand tenderly in his own massive paw while holding a fist close to his heart in the traditional salute of the Dragon Knights. "The honor and pleasure are of course all mine." Finished just in time to be shouldered aside by Axel.

"Axel de Gramont." Axel gave a small bow, the slightest bend at the waist which from a man of his stature was akin to a ship's mast beginning to topple. "Guiche had mentioned your loveliness, but I confess my imagination did fail me." That had to be a first, Guiche thought wearily. It also seemed to have skipped his mind that he had tol them Miss Midori was _wed_.

Having finally pawed his spectacles from his jacket pocket, Reinhardt squinted, blinked quickly in surprise, and then rumbled his own greetings. "Our youngest brother has been regaling us with stories of your exploits Miss Midori, I would truly love to hear your retelling, perhaps over drinks later this evening. I'm sure a sitting room could be found." Gucihe's eldest brother gave a small wink. "Then of course, we can find how much our little brother has been inflating the truth."

"But of course." The Swordswoman folded her hands lightly across her stomach, nodding to each of the brothers in turn, and then turning to the silent hurricane building at Guiche's back. "And, you must be . . ."

"Montmorency." Monmon answered curtly. "Montmorency Margarita La Fere do Montmorency. Charmed and at your service." Guiche swallowed once more as she passed him a withering look. She'd seemed so understanding just a short while ago. This was going to be a disaster, he just knew it. Withdrawal options were limited, the terrain and conditions did not permit an orderly retreat. He didn't need good acumen, he needed a miracle!

"And likewise, Miss Montmorency." Midori answered softly, if the girl's barely concealed agitation had registered, it hardly showed in the slightest. "Or, do you prefer Monmon?"

That simple question did the impossible, it stopped Montmorency dead in her tracks, looking suspiciously to Guiche and then back to Midori. "What? Y-yes, that's what my friends call me. But how did . . . ?"

A small giggle froze Guiche's thoughts. Like wind chimes, sweet, and gentle. The idea that such a wondeful sound could come from the reserved girl he had journeyed with to Albion, it was an entirely different and gratifying aspect of her character. Almost enough alone to make up for these intensely awkward circumstances.

"Guiche mentioned it of course." Midori smiled knowingly to a confused Montmorency. "He couldn't stop bragging about the beautiful and virtuous girl who was waiting for him when we returned home."

"Beautiful?" Monmon looked unconvinced as she looked back to him, but the first had drained from her eyes. And that was a magic more potent than any Guiche had seen in his short life.

Midori nodded, smiling warmly, as if to say it was the total truth, perhaps a _little_ exaggerated, but only a little. It was the truth that Monmon had been his thoughts from the moment he had departed the Academy until his eyes had opened upon her face in the infirmary of the Champ de'Mars. Now if only she'd believe him . . .

Not waiting to see how the water mage would take her revelation, Midori took the initiative. "After hearing so much about you. I'm really glad to get to meet you in person." Midori took the other girls hands in her own. "I'm grateful you could join us tonight, Monmon."

"Well, I, uhm . . . I do suppose it is an auspicious occasion." Monmon admitted. "And I had been hoping to meet you as well. Thought this does seem a surprise."

That shook Guiche from his silence, as if he had somehow forgotten the Gala happening all around them.

"Erm yes, well," he coughed, half clearing his throat, half thanking the Founder under his breath. Whether the wielder of the Sacred Void deigned to listen was another matter, but it appeared he had bequeathed Guiche with a boon tonight. "It was I who suggested to father to ask an invitation for the Montmorencys. I could hardly imagine attending tonight without my radiant Monmon."

"Is that so?" Montmorency crossed her arms before her chest and quirked a brow. "And it had nothing to do with your father wanting to shore up ties before moving to arrange a formal engagement?" She took special care to ask the question as loudly as possible so as to engage his brothers' attention. "You know, father approves very highly of my being betrothed to a war hero."

"Ah, perhaps?" Guiche offered carefully.

"An engagement?!" Reinhardt declared.

Axel nodded sagely. "And how haven't we heard of this? Mother would have mentioned something so momentous in her letters!"

"Now, now." Erwin patted his brother on the shoulder, settling the more excitable man. "We only found out you were to be wed when we received the wedding invitations. How is Madeline by the way? Tolerating that miserable shack you call a house?"

Axel raised his hands to his heart. "Ah, as lovely as ever! And her beauty only grows more vibrant when angered, such an artist of the flames!"

"Then I suppose it's for the best that you're your own fire brigade, brother." Guiche sighed. At least with Monmon he wouldn't have to worry about the house being burned to the ground at the smallest offense. Though flooding might bring its own problems.

Looking back to Midori, he took the first opportunity to ask the question that had been at the back of his mind for the past minutes, demanding an answer. "Though I'm happy to see you well, Miss Midori, I do confess this is the last place I expected to meet you again."

Yes, the last place.

It was strange, just a short while ago, Guiche had longed to know what had become of Midori. Now, he only felt confusion, hurt, angered perhaps, that she could appear again so suddenly in front of him after vanishing so completely. They had known each other only briefly, little more than passing strangers. But in that time, she had made a wreck of his comfortable self. It didn't seem fair that she could just disappear after something like that.

"She was invited as a guest of honor of course." Came a voice that took a moment for Guiche to register, having not heard it since just prior to the events of the Newcastle Raid.

"Princess!" All four brothers answered as one, coming to stalk attention as they were approached by their future sovereign. Having stood back to watch for a time, the jewel of Tristain had finally deigned to step forward herself.

Waving a hand vaguely at the quartet, Princess Henrietta asked that they be at ease. "Being bowed to for every little thing is rather embarrassing. Please, as you were." She said, accepting introductions from each of the brothers and from Montmorency. Guiche in particularly, found himself receiving the Princess' gratitude.

"It was thanks in no small part to your intervention that my Cousin survived the attempt on his life. I must thank you again."

Guiche bowed his head in a way that he hoped appeared humble, but truly was a mark of his shame. "Thank you, Princess, but I'm hardly the one deserving thanks . . ." He nodded to Midori. "I'm sure you already know that the real reason the Prince's life was spared was Miss Midori's quick thinking and courage."

The fact that the Swordswoman seemed to hold no desire for attention or accolades did not make her less deserving of them, or mean that Guiche himself should be given so much of the credit. Why was it so? He knew father and others knew the truth, but they seemed happy to entertain the fiction. Was it merely because he was a Noble son while Midori was a 'mere' failed mage without status or title? Woud such things really matter in the face of her accomplishment. And if that were the case, surely she wouldn't have been invited at all.

"I think you're underestimating yourself Guiche." Midori said with a look of sweet sympathy. "If not for you, Prince Wales would have been pierced through the heart. As it was, he nearly died before he could be resuscitated, even with very powerful Magic."

Guiche felt doubtful, if that were the case, wouldn't he know it for himself? He'd had no shortage of confidence in himself not so long ago, before it had all evaporated in the trek across Albion.

Even the Princess seemed to recognize the doubt in his eyes, cocking her head slightly to the side as if hearing something at a distance, she smiled softly. "Whatever the merits of your contributions Mister Gramont, Miss Midori, Wales would not be alive now without both of you." Turning to his brothers. "That is why, if it is not too much trouble, I would be grateful if I could borrow your brother for introductions."

Exchanging looks among themselves, his Elder brothers arrived swiftly at their decision. "But of course your highness." Axel said as spokesman, bowing once more to his future sovereign. "Whatever you may wish." Then giving Guiche an amused smirk, he added. "Try not to embarrass the family too much little brother."

If it got him away from those three for a time, and let him regain his bearings, he was only too happy to accept, following after the Princess and Dame Midori, Monmon close behind like a pup at his heels.

The Gala proper was under way now, and taken on a life of its own. Rarely could so many notable people be found together at one time. To be seen here at all was in and of itself enough to offer an early boost to his efforts to achieve social standing. To attend as a guest of honor was an incredible privelege, and to be in the company of the Princess no less, was fortune heaped upon fortune.

The defining event of his life at the very least, it should have been a memorable occasion. At any other time it would have been, but now, Guiche's attention were focused entirely on the girl beside him, the one that wasn't Monmon.

Courtesieing to Dukes, introducing herself to Counts and Countesses, and smiling demurely at young Noble sons trying and failing for the life of them to decipher what superb pedigree could be responsible for such a creature. Mystery was an attracting all its own, and Midori wielded it almost without thinking about it, maybe not even aware of it at all.

It was, Guiche realized, a sort of privilege that existed between them that he knew as much as he did about her. All the more reason to feel betrayed now by her sudden reappearance.

That sense of resentment, it wasn't one he was used to feeling, and not one he could easily let go of. It was unsurprising that it would eventually bubble over as they circumnavigated the crowds of the Gala, Princess Henrietta making small talk and introductions at each stop, apologizing profusely when she confused a name or title among the many hundred in attendance. Even the Princess couldn't keep track of them all!

He found his opening as they were making their way between two of the small groups that had broken off to orbit the main throng of guests who had gathered around the bands and the tables full of delicacies laid out to tied over the fickle appetites of Tristain's most powerful and wealthy sons and daughters.

"Miss Midori?" Guiche asked.

"Hmm?" She mumbled back, only half paying attention he noted.

In fact, Midori's head seemed to be on a swivel tonight, as if she'd never seen the likes of the Gala. Well, he could forgive that of course, it would be rare enough that even a distinguished noble be invited to an event such as this, much less a girl more accustomed to the anonymity of the shadows.

"Miss _Midori_." He repeated firmly this time. Distracted or not, his questions still demanded answers, and he couldn't place them to rest until Midori answered for herself. What those answers would be, what they _should_ be, he was unsure, but he'd know them when he heard them. Maybe then he could make sense of all of this.

"Oh? You were saying something, Guiche?" Midori's eye lashes fluttered as if she had just been snapped from a trance.

"I was trying to ask," Guiche said with all the patience he could muster, "What exactly you are doing here?"

The Swordswoman tilted her head to the side. "I'm a guest like you, just as the Princess said."

"Oh give it a rest Guiche." Montmorency admonished, seeming to have put her misgivings aside for the opportunity to be seen moving in the same social circles as the Princess. Of course, for Monmon, this was as much an evening of business as pleasure. But that didn't seem to be all of it. She smirked. "Midori is having enough trouble beating the boys off without you adding to her trouble."

And so it would seem, another cloud of Nobility, another group of young men, hanging to their fathers, scenting the faint whiff of perfume and seeing the small figure in the company of the Princess. Their future sovereign might have been beyond their reach, but curiosity would be enough to draw them in a heartbeat. And . . . Guiche grimaced, most would be a good deal less scrupulous in upholding gentlemanly conduct.

Guiche sighed, unused to finding anything this difficult. "I simply don't understand is all. After Newcastle, I didn't hear a word of you. Even the soldiers at Newcastle couldn't recall seeing you during the battle." It had been like she had fallen off the face of the earth. "And then when you claimed no credit for your part in saving the Prince. I feared that you had _died_."

"Miss Midori?" Henrietta looked worried. "Ah, perhaps you two would like a moment? I know this must all seem very sudden and . . ."

Midori raised one hand to assure the Princess that it was alright. She looked at Guiche tiredly. "I'm simply a very private person." She turned away from him. "Though, I'm sorry to have worried you."

It was really the last straw, the final breaking point, he reached out, grabbing one slender shoulder. He hadn't meant to, hadn't meant to raise his voice either. "So why? Why would you appear again, here, and now?"

"Guiche!" Montmorency reprimanded, grabbing at his free arm.

Guiche remembered himself, loosening his grip on a surprised Midori, but not letting go, never daring to let go. She looked away from him, the strangest expression of shame in her eyes. Midori shook her head, resuming her mysterious smile while never facing him.

"I'm an illusion of your youth." She said. "A manifestation of the feelings in your adolescent heart." Midori shrugged his hand free, turning aside and crossing her arms beneath her chest.

'What play did she get that line from?' Guiche wondered to himself. "And what's that supposed to mean?" He grumbled unhappily.

"Sorry, sorry." Midori smiled. "The truth is, I'm secretly a Faerie agent serving at the pleasure of Princess Henrietta."

Guiche snorted. "Now you're just making fun of me." To think he would be confronted by such a ridiculous claim. And there the Princess was giggling again, obviously amused by the antics of their bickering. Or at least he hoped it was simple amusement.

Midori's smile faded. Voice full of good humor and gentleness, she placed a hand on his shoulder in return, squeezing softly. "The truth is Guiche, there are a lot of things I cannot say. I never intended to cross paths with you again. And I especially didn't think my fate could be of such concern to you. So I am sorry if I've made things difficult."

It was strangely reassuring, like something he'd thought he'd lost in his life had reappeared once more. And like a child, Guiche was happy to accept it.

"Yes, well." Guiche muttered. "I _have_ been giving it some thought." Something of an understatement, a severe understatement. "I couldn't bare the idea of something happening to you while journeying with me. What your husband would think . . . he is here tonight, isn't he?" Guiche looked about curiously. He had know idea what the man might look like, but he was certain that anyone so exceptional as to ask Midori's hand would stand out from the crowd.

The girl's lips twitched, a tiny return to her smile. "Oh, I'm sure my _spouse_ is around here somewhere. You might even be meeting them tonight." She gave a meaningful nod to the silent figures ringing the perimeter of the Gala and making their own way through the crowds.

But of course! Comprehension dawned. If there were any worthy of a girl like Midori, he really need look no further than the ranks of the Royal Knights. It really was such an obvious thing now that he thought of it.

Though as privileged as the people they protected, the Manticore and Griffin Knights remained separate from the guests around them. They were tasked instead with the high honor of ensuring the safety and identity of those attending the event. Even as Guiche watched, one of the Knights passed by, breathing a small chant and flicking his wand in the direction of a corpulent Baron de Temir in the midst of chattering furiously with the First Lord of Orlein and his aid.

The small spark of light went unnoticed by the Baron, perhaps mistaken as a glow bug. When the Baron's form did not change, instead remaining as resolutely rotund as ever, the Mage Knight gave a small, satisfied nod and continued onward.

Social occasions such as this were prime opportunities for kidnappers and imposters. It would be the duty of the Royal Knights to make quiet rounds throughout the evening, making certain that everyone was who they claimed to be. And at that, Guiche gave a small sigh.

"Well then, I do hope I will have the opportunity another time." He offered. "That is", Guiche gave Midori a worried look, "If you don't vanish once more into the woodwork." He really rather hoped she wouldn't, at least, not until he could come to grips with what he was feeling towards her at that moment. Not attraction, but pleasant, like when he'd been younger, before his brothers had taken him up in their challenges.

Midori gave him an uncertain look. "We'll . . . see. I can't promise that Guiche."

"Guiche, can you be any more of an insensitive jerk?" Monmon selected that exact time to intervene.

"Err?"

Montmorency stepped between them, raising one hand to guard Midori while giving Guiche the most unpleasant look he'd ever received from he without an attached threat of violence.

"I'm really sorry about him Midori." Monmon patted the other girl on the shoulder. "I just thought he was being a _womanizer_." Glare. "But I guess it goes deeper than that. Now come along, I think I just spied the Countess of Windsor."

"And I do think that is Wales with her." Henrietta agreed, the trio of girls turning towards another small throng that centered on the Prince Valiant and his cousin, the exile Countess of Windsor, leaving Guiche to trail behind at a loss.

Peculiar that so many young men would be flocking towards the pair however. Of course there were the expected young officers, dressed much as Guiche, eager to hear the Prince's recounting of battle in Albion. Only natural, the Prince and his men were a precious resource, bringing with them a wealth of experience about fighting navigating in Albion's airspace. But others as well, younger, no older than Guiche, and certainly more inquisitive about things other than the Prince valiant.

Odd that, while the Countess was not unattractive, she certainly wasn't one to draw desire from so many young men. More likely to be courted by fathers as an ally and potential wife than by the young Nobility themselves.

It remained a mystery until he grew closer, and then all that was revealed as the crowd parted ways before Henrietta, bowing and standing at attention as seemed appropriate until a path was opened to the bright heart of the small cosmos. A heart, that it turned out, that was not the Prince Valiant or the Countess of Windsor.

Guiche was left dumbstruck.

If there was a single word for her, it would be 'Radiance', pure 'Radiance' like the spilling down on the earth through morning clouds. By the light of a thousand candles and a hundred floating magelights, she seemed to glow. Chestnut hair reflecting a river of lights, bright brown eyes twinkling with stardust.

"Guiche?" Monmon noticed his starring and sighed in exacerbation.

Her gown was an elegant affair of silk white, in fact, very much resembling the one worn by Midori, its twin, save for the sash being tied in such a way that its bow trailed downwards rather than up into the butterfly knot at the dainty Swordwoman's back. Around her neck, a simply necklace of white pearls, and from her ears . . . her ears! Those delicately pointed Faerie ears, each capped in a metal sheath studded by a single diamond each.

Of course he should have recognized her at once! The Lady Asuna, former Commander of the Knights of blood. Something of a minor celebrity among the Fae for her part in leading the three hundred Fae who had found themselves appearing in Albion after the Transition. He'd met her briefly in Newcastle and been immediately smitten. But to see her like this . . . her natural beauty had only been enhanced for the evening.

"Remember that she's married." Midori breathed softly at his side with almost hostile undertones. "_Very_ married." Her eyes were tracking over the men surrounding the Lady Asuna, like a hawk stocking its pray.

The look from Montmorency sought confirmation, Guiche nodded quickly. "It's exactly as Midori has said." He caught himself before mentioning anything of his disappointment. Though seeing her now, and the way that she was expertly turning down every advance and engagement by the young Nobles, he suspected she might have been a bit out of his league. Some sort of Noble in her own right back wherever the Fae had come from, and likely one of considerable status.

Guiche shook his head in disbelief, to think that such a vision of elegance could be married to a scoundrel like that Spriggan Swordsman Kirito. He wrinkled his nose at the very thought.

"Wales!" Princess Henrietta spread her arms, taking her cousin in a brief hug, returned awkwardly by the Prince."

"Yes . . . Henrietta." Wales smiled. "You look lovely as ever tonight. And in company I see."

The Princess nodded, gesturing for Guiche and Midori to step forward. Guiche hesitated at first, but a gentle nudge from Monmon spurred him forward. Standing beside the Lady Asuna, the dichotomy between her and Miss Midori could not have been more clear. Equally beautiful to behold, but as different as night and day . He supposed it was the dress, probably prepared by the same tailors on short notice.

"I'm sure you remember Guiche de Gramont."

Henrietta nodded to him, drawing the unwelcome attention of the gathered noble sons. Those without martial standing in any case, looking down on a lowly Baron's son who could command the thanks of their Princess. He tried not to grimace, that would be the other shortcoming of his newly minted reputation.

"The man responsible for keeping my heart in my chest." The Prince rubbed tenderly over the very spot he had been near mortally wounded. "A moment more notice next time, perhaps?" Wales added with a hint of mirth. He took Guiches hand, squeezing it firmly in that peculiar Albionian fashion.

"And Miss Midori as well." Henrietta touched the other girl on the shoulder.

"And the woman who kept said heart beating." Wales took up her gloved hand, kissing it tenderly, before looking up with a small smirk. Midori's brow twitched as if she found something terribly unamusing about the gesture. "How could I forget either of you. The honor is all mine. Or rather, yours tonight."

Guiche glanced over his shoulder to see that Monmon had made a straight path for the Countess of Windsor, previously sheltered in her cousins shadow. If memory served, Monmon had been going on about wanting to speek with her sometime tonight. The Montmorency patriarch seemed to fancy an alliance with her. Something about joint sponsoring some old Count in the North in profitable pharmaceutical experiments. This was in large part why Monmon had been so eagerly invited, Father showing off the doors that the Gramont's could open for the Montmorency's to profit. Mutual profit, of cours.

"It was nothing as all my Prince." Midori answered sweetly. "Though I hope it will be a remind when next your risk yourself."

Wales chuckled, the barest wince revealing his less than perfect recovery. "I do think it will be a good reminder for the next time, and many times to come. I suppose you will both be receiving honors tonight."

"At the Princess's insistence." Midori sighed. "I think I'd rather have stayed home if I knew I'd be getting all this attention." Indignant snorts and chuckles from the Noble's around them, unsure if it were a joke in bad taste, or quite serious, and unsure how to respond either way. "Though I imagine the fireworks will be interesting at least, so there is that."

Guiche looked up into the darkening sky, the first stars now growing visible. Yes, he had heard about the display. It should be quite the sight over the river, and would be the signal to sound the beginning of the evening ceremonies, which were set to occur any time now.

Looking over the heads of the guests, Guiche's eyes were naturally drawn to a head of particularly blood red hair, hair that could only belong to a Germanian, or a Salamander. Which were, in his opinion, much the same thing. In particular, the Lord of the Salamanders who had at some point in the intervening half of the hour manged to arrive at last.

Murmurs rose from the crow around him, a few Nobles exchanging distrustful glances. Word had spread about Lord Mortimer's perceived misdeeds, transforming a military hero into a conflicted figure in the eyes of the court. Monmon would say it was all a matter of who was asked. Though, judging by the voices around him, he doubt it would be wise to ask any of this lot.

Guiche shifted uncomfortably. He didn't know why, but something about Mortimer had gotten under his skin from the first time they had met in person. Maybe it was the way his father seemed to appreciate the strange man, more so even than his own sons. Talking with him long into the night, backing Mortimer loyally to the hilt despite this recent scandal. It seemed, not unreasonable, but undeserved for how briefly they had known eachother.

Tonight, it was probably the simple fact that Mortimer cut a much more handsome figure in his own uniform than Guiche could ever hope to match.

"Monmon?" Guiche noticed the water mage . . . Leering?!

"I can do it too you know." Montmorency said smugly, a reply to which Guiche could offer no good counter.

The Princess gave a bemused look. "Oh, don't let it bother you so much. It's just harmless fun. Why don't you be a _darling_ and go fetch your and Miss Montmorency some drinks."

"Lord Mortimer, a pleasure to have another hero joining us tonight." Wales extended his arms in greetings.

"Prince Wales." Mortimer answered, voice cool, restrained, an unmistakeable. "Just the man I was hoping to see."


	28. Cait and Mouse

Yeah, so on to an epic endgame.

Halkegenia Online c2.0 – Chapter 10 - Part 1

KoKo rapped on the door, once, twice, the brittle echo vanishing into the night air without a trace. They waited silently for an answer, the light from the window above never wavering, nor the shadow of the man sitting beside it.

"Have they already turned in?" Miss Caramel peered up at the window. "Probably got drunk early and passed out."

"I can try knocking a bit louder maybe." The Cait woman suggested, raising her hand again to the door. She knocked once, more firmly, she didn't have to knock again.

With a low, eery creak, the door of the tailor's swung open the smallest hair, the tinkling sound of the shop bell a deceiving melody in the gloom. Before Louise could think much of it, before she could even understand what was happening, she was being shoved back by a quickly backpedaling KoKo.

"Hey?!" Louise tried to wrestle free, but KoKo had other plans, hand held firm like a vice. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Shh!" KoKo shushed her with a distressing hiss.

Miss Caramel and the Lieutenant, formerly at ease, reacted almost instantly. With an exchanged glance, both women drew their swords and stepped quickly to the sides of the doorway. The sudden change in the manner of their martial escorts tipped off Kirche, the Germanian raising her wand to a ready guard.

Peering into the dark, Louise had her first inkling of what the others had sensed, and the realization of dread. It was hard to see at first, but as her eyes adjusted to the dark, Louise picked out the features of the room. The furniture and the miscellaneous items strewn about as if by random. And that was because it was random, chaos.

The store had been ransacked, chairs and desks turned over or shattered, dresses fallen in tatters, mirrors broken, their glass reflecting the ceiling and the few shards of moonlight creeping in through the windows.

"What in the hell?" Miss Caramel hissed, raising her free hand as if to chant some Faerie magic.

"I should have expected something like this." Agnes drew her pistol, readying the commoner weapon for any surprises. "de'Martou's contacts must have done this. Tidying up loose ends."

Louise recalled the conversation between Janglers and de'Martou, the formers insistence in ensuring silence. It appeared he had ignored the corrupt Tax Collectors advice. Which would mean . . .

KoKo went stiff, ears twitching about atop her head. "Agnes-san, I hear something inside."

The musketeer grimaced, but nodded thanks for the warning. "We have to assume there's somebody still here. Caramel, check the up stairs first." Agnes instructed, squinting into the darkness and leveling her pistol on the shadows.

The Faerie breathed a curse that Louise didn't quite catch, something about her name. The Swordswoman's wings had already materialized at her back, four, slender, raked geometric blades of translucent white, before lightly kicking off in a flight assisted hop to settle on the eave beside the second floor window.

"Do you see anything?" Agnes called softly, eyes never leaving the dark of the shop interior.

"Just give me a second." The Faerie leaned closer to the wall, peaking in from the corner of the window. She gave an inarticulate grunt, and then a very articulate curse. "Damn it, you better get inside and see this. I think . . ." Miss Caramel stopped mid sentence, suddenly kicking away from the wall like a frightened cat.

The reflexive jump might have been the only thing to save her as the wall overhead exploded outwards in a shower of Spackle, wood splinters, and something else, distressingly indistinct, tumbling and coming apart in midair. As it was, the Faerie had gained just enough distance to not be caught head on. Instead, she was picked from the sky and sent careening back into the solid stone facing of the building on the opposite side of the narrow street. The Sworsdwoman struck with a sound of stone hitting metal, bouncing, before plummeting from the sky in groaning heap.

"Miss Caramel!" Louise had time to cry before being violently pulled aside, a slender silver flash materializing in the space she had just been filling, then another, and another. Four in a row, the last striking KoKo in the shoulder, sinking to a dull corded hilt with a small hiss of pain from the Cait. KoKo's cry was drowned out by the loud, sharp -crack- as Agnes fired into the darkness, a tongue of hot flame spitting from the barrel of her pistol.

'A dagger?' Louise wondered. Those were daggers. Daggers that had been aimed at her. Her stunned senses reasserted themselves as the dark interior of the shop was turned into an inferno that crashed out into the street, breaking like waves against Kirche's guard. Someone was trying to kill them!

"Lieutenant!" The Germanian shouted to the flames in front of her. Agnes had still been standing beside the door frame Louise realized with sudden horror. In that wall of fire, she couldn't . . .

A shadow appeared in front of Kirche, resolving itself into something small and low, rolling backwards from the destruction, it revealed itself at once for what it was, the Lieutenant, shielded by her singed cloak, and more importantly, by the layer of fire drake leather lining that had previously been hidden beneath Royal colors.

Seeing the musketeer safe, Kirche drew her wand close to her chest, beginning a hurried spell, but one conducted with a surety and economy of movement that left Louise dumbstruck. She'd never seen Kirche look this . . . this serious. Then, as if her wand were a duelists foil, the Fire Mage took a practiced step forward and thrust towards the source of the jet.

The flame wall folded, turned in on itself and its caster with a shout of surprise. It didn't appear that their unseen assailants were at all happy to have their own magic turned against them, not one bit.

Good, Louise thought viciously, burying her head against KoKo's shoulder as the hissing of the flames grew to a banshee scream, and then, as suddenly at it had started, became deathly, numbingly silent. The quiet lasted for only a heartbeat to be replaced by sound like a thunder clap and a bone shaking reverberation that caused KoKo to cover her ears and nearby windows to either shatter in place or else shake free from their frames.

Smoldering debris was thrown out onto the street as the flames guttered away, smoke cleared in the blink of an eye by the squall that emanated from the wreckage, giving Louise and the others a clear view at last of just who had attacked them.

Standing near the back of the ruined shop, there were seven of them in total, all but one crouching or still recovering from their near immolation by Kirche's surprise counter attack.

It was the last that struck fear in Louise's heart, standing ahead of the others, face just as garbed, but something in the line of his jaw triggered a sense of recognition, the reptilian sharpness making her look harder. Without a doubt, she knew who this was, who it had to be. And it seemed that he knew them.

"You." Janglers growled under his breath, head nodding to Louise and KoKo.

Louise her shook her head. "Me? You!" Not the best comeback, but about all that she could manage in the heat of the moment.

"Your instructions, Sir?" One of the men behind Janglers queried. "Shall we capture them?"

Capture!

Janglers clicked his tongue in disgust. "No. There's no reason now, besides, they couldn't have compromised anything." Janglers shook his head, speaking as if he barely cared for their presence. "I should have shown better judgment the other night when meeting with that idiot. Kill them, and then follow through with the diversion effort. Burn it all to ash."

Kill! Louise's heart raced.

"Sir!" The men spoke as one, hardly hesitating an instant before leveling their wands.

Louse felt KoKo squeezing her tightly, body tensing up to take flight when the air between the conspirators and their stunned party sparked, and then blossomed into flashes of light and smoke. An eath-flame combination spell.

"Louise, KoKo!" Kirche was sprinting towards them, wand waving wildly at the smoke cloud as she blindly snapped off a flame whip and another barrage of the small smoke bombs. A barrage of blind fired spells punched holes in the smoke screen, narrowly missing, some barely grazing. Louise blanched as a wind spear sliced a few strands of fiery hair, but Kirche hardly seemed to notice. "Are you okay?"

"Us?" Louise shook her head. "What about the Lieutenant and Miss Caramel?"

Behind Kirche, Louise could see the Faerie Swordswoman struggling to her feet, throwing aside the object that had erupted through the wall along with the wind hammer. It was a person, or rather, it had been a person. Louise felt sickened, she hadn't realized what it was before, being forced through a wall hadn't left much to be recognized. Most likely, it was one of the proprietors.

Kirche gave one glance over her shoulder. Her attacks and smokescreen had made the conspirators concentrate on her, opening the path for the Lieutenant to help the dazed Faerie Swordswoman to her feet, but they were now separated from Louise, KoKo and Kirche.

"They'll be fine!" Kirche decided loudly.

Miss Caramel was shaking her head slowly, holding a hand to where her hair was fast growing matted with blood. She didn't look okay at all, not well enough to fly, and they wouldn't be able to escape with her on foot.

If there had been fewer attackers here, one, two, even three, then maybe they could stand their ground and fight. But seven was simply too many. They hadn't expected this. Hadn't prepared for it in the heart of Tristania. The conspirators acting so brazenly. Louise knew this, and yet.

"No! We can't"

Kirche's glare could have melted stone. "Valliere! For once in your life, don't argue with me. The only thing we can do at a time like this is run." She turned batting, aside a fist sized fire ball with her wand. "Run, and wish every one luck . . . Ugh-" Another fireball, a flurry of them, striking again and again, forcing Kirche to devote herself to defense, parrying brilliantly but losing ground all the while.

Louise felt an arm coiling around her stomach, lifting her from the ground, KoKo pushing her back to her feet, pulling at her hand, pulling her away from the fight and towards the darkness of a side alley as wind bullets chased after them, punching holes in the wooden walls of a nearby building. Her last sight of Kirche  
was the Germanian trading fire with a pair of mages, the other four storming from the dissipating smokescreen, giving chase to her and KoKo, and then they were into the alley, the darkness, and the safety of the mazes of the Capital's back streets.

If they could get enough of a lead, they could lose themselves here and make it to safety. There had been a gathering starting in the market square nearby, if they could get there, then maybe . . .

For a time, Louise wasn't sure how long, the only thing she could see was KoKo pulling her by the arm. All she could hear was the sound of shoes striking cobble stones, and the pounding of her own heart. And all that she could think of was the corpse that had laid at Miss Caramel's feet.

She'd barely paid it any mind, but now that she knew what it was, what had to have been. Older, gray haired, he would have been a distinguished looking man. Almost certainly the proprietor . .. Her mind was filling in the details, the blank, lifeless eyes, the pit just above the temple where the air needle had clinically ended him.

They'd done that, done that to keep him silent! Silent about whatever it was that they had gotten Terrance de'Martou to extort him for. Which also very likely meant . . . if that man had been one of the proprietors, there would have been others tailors and seamstresses. Those men had probably been hunting them all down, killing them off. And fire . . . They'd mentioned fire. A fire to erase the evidence.

And now, men that could think like that, do things like that without flinching were chasing them, going to kill them! Louise felt the contents of her stomach beginning their forceful rise. She couldn't help herself. Heels digging in, Louise yanker her hand free from KoKo's, turned to the wall for the support, and then began to wretch uncontrollably.

"Louise?" KoKo panted, blinking her eyes rapidly, her face had darkened into a feverish flush.

It would have seemed strange if Louise had been in any condition to pay it any mind. Maybe if she had, she would have done something differently, realized sooner.

KoKo was by far the fitter of the two of them, so she should hardly have been winded just yet. In fact, if she'd been in a right frame of mind, she would have been asking herself why KoKo hadn't immediately grabbed her and taken to the air. The Cait woman wasn't as strong as Klein, but she should have been able to manage the two of them to skim the distance to the safety of the Palace walls, or even a trafficked street.

"Away." Louise whispered under her breath. "Away. We have to get away. Have to get away from here. Have to find help, have to, have to . . ."

"Louise!" KoKo raised her voice as high as she dared. "Stop. Take a breath. Look at me Louise-chan, look at me, and . . . and . . ."

"KoKo?"

Worry for the Faerie's strange mannerisms replaced Louise's fear for her life, broke her from her litany. The Cait seemed like a marionette whose strings had just been cut. Her legs gave out, trembling, sending her to ground with a soft shake. KoKo raised her arms, hugging herself, hands on her shoulders. One hand rested just beneath the hilt of the knife still buried in the meat of her shoulder.

'Oh no.' Louise felt a sick churning in her stomach. She was glad that it was empty, because she would have spit it up all over again now.

"KoKo? KoKo!" Louise whispered softly, quickly, raising a hand to feel the older woman's temperature. She pulled her palm away almost at once, fearfully. She was already showing a strong reaction.

"Sorry Louise-chan." KoKo chuckled weakly, as if making light of the situation would make it all go away. "I'm just feeling little under the weather."

"No you're not!" Louise said, ignoring her protests. "That knife . . . Why didn't you pull it out?!"

"What are you talking about . . ." She panted. "And I didn't want to risk losing too much blood . . . Already getting light headed . . . "

"You're light headed because you've been poisoned!" Louise reached for the dagger hilt, batting aside KoKo's hands when she tried to protest. The Cait might have been the bigger of the two of them, and usually the stronger, but right now, she was helpless as a kitten.

"If it's like the ones mother showed us, then there's an internal reservoir, the poison will be mixing with your blood." She didn't add that normally the poison used in such a weapon was strong enough and in great enough dosage to kill a bear. The only reason KoKo was still breathing, much less consciouss, was doubtless her Faerie constitution.

Carefully, oh so carefully, Louise took the hilt, pulling tenderly and cringing as KoKo hissed in pain. The blade must have been shaped so it would be hard to remove without causing more damage. A murderer's weapon through and through. But leaving it in would be far worse, looking at her patient, Louise could see the poison taking its toll.

Thinking quickly, Louise grimaced. She would do everything possible to make up for it afterwords, but for now, she reached to KoKo's belt, drawing the knife she kept for defense. The same knife she'd used to protect Louise and Silica when they had first met.

Regarding the tool in her hands, almost too big to be called a simple knife. It was meant for cutting things, killing things, and any other number of tasks. All that mattered to Louise was that it was sharp and tapered to a point. It would have to do.

"Louise?" KoKo asked as the mage brandished the knife like a hilariously over sized scalpel.

"It's okay." Louise said for both of their benefits. "I have to get the dagger out now. Don't worry . . . I-I've done this before in class." Once, as part of anatomy studies and reagent harvesting. But for all of her bravado, the trusting look that KoKo gave her did much more to steady her shaking hands.

Two cuts, short incisions, widening the wound barely enough to free the blade. Louise pulled it free slowly, letting KoKo bite into the sleeve of her blouse. In the moonlight shinning down on the narrow street, the dagger glittered the colors of silver and blood, a clear fluid weeping from the channel cut down its center.

Louise was careful not to touch the blade, to not dare nick herself on its deadly edge. Whatever the poison was, she doubted that she would stand up to it half so well as KoKo. Still, she took the weapon, folding it carefully in the fabric of her cloak, anything that might help to identify the specific agent. Now she had to get KoKo back to the Palace. If there was anyone who would have access to the right antidote, it would be the Royal Physicians.

But, how was she supposed to do that? She looked at the Cait, it was clearly all that KoKo could do to lean up against the wall.

Could she leave her here? Come back with hel?. Louise discarded that idea swiftly. Not with their pursuers looking for them. KoKo would be killed in a heartbeat while she lay here, defenseless. And if the conspirators didn't find her, then she might expire before Louise could make it back.

Which only left . . . "KoKo, do think you can manage to walk if you lean on me?" Louise asked, already pulling the Cait's arm over her shoulder.

"What?" KoKo blinked in confusion. Obviously not thinking too clearly now. But that was okay, Louise didn't need her to think, just to move.

Hefting her load carefully, Louise felt renewed confidence. Sometimes, when Cattleya's condition acted up, Louise had done much the same when her sister insisted on getting out of bed on her own. And compared to Cattleya, KoKo was a lightweight.

The tiny glimmer of optimism vanished almost at once as she heard the shouts and fast beating of boot heals echoing through the abandoned street. She wasn't a good ear, but that sounded like four, and the chances were they had given chase expecting to find a dead Faerie and a helpless girl. She wasn't going to let them have either.

"Come on, one foot in front of the other." Louise instructed, coaxing the dazed woman forward. KoKo stumbled drunkenly, but her gate was still what could generously be called a walk, as long as Louise was by her side, they could do this.

They didn't even have to make it very far. Someplace beyond this maze lay the main streets, and from there the safety of anonymity and hundreds of witnesses, many of them Nobles. Luckily the moons had come out, and at this time of night they were as good a gauge as any to find their way. All they had to do was follow the moons and they wouldn't be turned around.

A shout at her back caused Louise's heart to skip. Now, the only question was whether they would make it to safety first, or would be caught. And worse, the load on her shoulder was getting heavier.

"Just a little bit further.

A small, weak chuckle, it might have just been an exhalation. "Louise-chan is such a good girl." KoKo whispered hoarsely. "Daisuke would have liked you. I wish I could have introduced you to him."

"What are you saying?" Louise looked over her shoulder again, she wasn't sure if that was a shadow or a man in a hood that had just turned the corner.

The sound of wood cracking and glass shattering just beside her head answered the question well enough. Pulling her own wand free she pointed shouted the shortest chant she could think of, with predictable results. The man brought his wand up to perry, but he obviously wasn't very good because he wasn't even able to defend against Louise's normal, pitiful burst. The figure was thrown from his feet with a shout of surprise and pain. At the same time, Louise let out a hiss of pain as her hand was grazed, wand flying free and into the shadows. She didn't dare stop to look for it, there was no time. She would just have to hope she'd made them a bit more cautious.

"Louise-chan is a good girl." KoKo repeated. "But she doesn't need to sacrifice herself for me or anyone else."

Tears were forming, hot and angry. No . . . KoKo couldn't be telling her this. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair! She wouldn't allow it! The same grim determination that had dragged her through every set back of her life took hold once more. This unfair world . . . she would succeed just to spite it! It gave her the strength to go on, to endure.

One final corner, one final turn . . . Louise broke.

It was a wall. Not metaphorical, a very tall, very substantial wall, barring the path ahead. A dead end.

"No. No, no, no." Louise looked up and then to either side. The walls were solid stone, no windows on the first floor. The only way forward was back into the alleyway, right back into the path of the pursuing mages. In other words, suicide.

"Louise-chan . . ."

"KoKo, just hold on." Louise assured. She tried to think, something, anything, there had to be something she could do.

"Louise-chan . . . it's okay. I want you to run now. With me it's impossible, but on your own, you might make it."

"No." Louise repeated. "No, you don't get to tell me to do that."

But what else could she do? If she abandoned KoKo, she might have been able to scale the wall up to a nearby window, force her way inside and hide. The sort of men who would murder people in the night, they would think she'd abandoned her companion and would go on to look elsewhere. And they'd be right. If Louise did that, she would be as shameful, dishonorable, disgraceful as them and . . . and her friend would be dead.

"Louise . . ."

"Enough!" Louise trembled with fear, and also with anger. "I won't hear one more word. You're saying I shouldn't sacrifice myself? But what's the reason to go on if I have to give up loved ones?"

KoKo was stricken silent.

"More than being a mage, more than living. I want . . . I want to keep hearing you praise me . . . because you mean it." Her voice shook. "And I want to taste all the strange things you make. And hear all the stories you have to tell. And I want you to meet my sister Cattleya. And I want you to be able to go back to your son." She choked. So many things to want . . . So many things that were going to disappear now, whether she lived or died. It simply didn't matter any more. "So don't tell me what I can and can't sacrifice for!"

KoKo leaned away from her, towards the wall for support. "You shouldn't say such things Louise-chan, you're still much too young to sacrifice . . ."

"I am a Noblewoman, and a Valliere." Louise shook with anger. "I have _never_ been too young to sacrifice."

Knuckles going white around the hilt of KoKo's knife, Louise inched towards the corner of the wall. Even if this was all she could do, maybe she could take one of the attackers by surprise, grab his wand. It wouldn't work very well without being properly tuned, it might even burn out the first time she tried to cast, but all she could manage was explosions anyways.

"There has to be something . . . something we can try." Louise breathed, something that would work. "KoKo, what about your magic, you can't concentrate enough to fly, but what about spells?" Louise thought she remembered that Faerie magic was a bit different, KoKo might be able to perform magic even like this.

"Maybe, I think . . . Maybe one spell." She blinked fast. "Maybe."

"Then try and make it count." Louise said, not because she thought KoKo wouldn't, but because that was what she thought she was supposed to say at a time like this. The foot steps were getting louder, they'd be here any second.

"Make it . . . make it count?" KoKo's head rolled back, looking up into the night sky, at the twin moons that were just now beginning to fall behind rain clouds. "Count . . ." She sucked in a breath. The light caught in the Cait's eyes, pupils slitting as she sucked in a breath past dry lips. Face set in a mask of cold sweat and concentration, not daring to misspeak of break cadence, KoKo began to chant. "Draíochta iarraidh fo leagtha nádúr . . ."

Stepping close, holding the knife close to her chest. Louise took the very last opportunity to ready herself and to say a final prayer to the Founder. If she died here, she only hoped that mother personally blamed Kirche.

" . . . athrú Draíochta cait Sidhe leagtha iarraidh . . ."

And yet, Louise realized, she should have been afraid. She was afraid, but as it turned out, fear wasn't nearly as scary as people said it was. This would be alright. If she died here, after doing her best, nobody would blame her. Least of all KoKo. No matter what happened, the last person she was with would not be disappointed in her.

" . . . fhorghníomhú!" KoKo gasped out and then nearly doubled over in pain.

"KoKo?" Louise only meant to spare her a glance, but when she saw, she stopped.

"Nnn . . . you said . . . make it count."

Or at least, that's what Louise thought she said. It was hard to tell with the way that her lips stretched, pulled back, barring her teeth. Louise nearly dropped KoKo's knife. She thought she'd seen the Cait at her worst before. But the gauntness seen then was amplified now, twisting her face into some mockery of itself as the skin stretched and stretched, form _changing_ beneath her skin. Tail twisting and lashing about. KoKo grabbed at her wounded arm, squeezing tightly as the hands spasmed, the muscle moving and twisting beneath kin. Her eyes opened wide, brilliant gold irises, pupils turned to razor thin slits.

Louise stumbled away.

"Just . . . promise me . . . Louise . . ." KoKo doubled over again. Hair falling to hide her deformed features. All that Louise could see was KoKo's mouth, lips pulled apart, and the reason that she struggled to speak . . . her teeth . . . "Promise you won't be afraid."

Louise didn't even hear the triumphant shout as the first mage turned the corner. The cry as he began to level his wand. But she did see what happened next . . . and she definitely heard the shouts turn to screams as the man was confronted by a nightmare of tawny fur, teeth, and claws.


	29. Forest Fight

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 10 - Part 2

Lydia barely slowed down as she crashed through the canopy, weaving between obstacles that were more blurs than anything she could put a name to. That there, ahead of her, could have been a tree stump or an enemy mage, by the time she could tell which was which it was already gone. Her concentration was consumed with the task of simply not dying, either to the mage fire or a terminal impact.

'Where is he?' Lydia's eyes scanned all around her. Where had they gone?!

It had been just moments, moments before that Lydia had watched Mortimer falling from the sky, being driven downwards by a man who could only have been deranged, utterly insane. That leering smile . . . She grimaced, redoubling her efforts, Mortimer could already be dead by now, but if not . . . There!

Ahead, through the forest she saw the flash of fire and shouts, what's more, through the gloom, the mages were still converging, closing in on the source of it all. Most of them anyways, a few were still perfectly willing to stop and deter her.

Flaring her wings, killing speed, Lydia narrowly evaded being peppered with wind arrows, coming so close as to feel one of the unraveling wind constructs slice past her cheek through the narrow visor of her helm. A fist full of her own fire either struck the mage or forced him to take cover, either way, he wasn't her primary concern.

Two more Salamanders crashed through the trees above them, Dio and Flamberge arriving behind their more nimble commander. Their armor had slowed them down a little, drag, and momentum making them less than maneuverable, still, she was thankful to have them now.

The forest really was the perfect place for this ambush, Lydia thought. If the goal was to assassinate Mortimer, where said Fae Lord could simply fly away, they had _needed_ Rip Jack to even touch him. Unless they had intended to rely on luck and catch Mortimer on the ground. But one Faerie wasn't going to be able to take on an entire party of guards.

'So they force us down here to rescue our Lord . . .' She grimaced, down here beneath the cover of the treetops, down here among the natural obstacles, where they couldn't maneuver freely.

"Flamberg, no matter what, grab Mortimer and get above the treetops as quickly as possible." Lydia ordered. There were far too many of them to deal with safely, their objectives were to recover Mortimer and avoid losses.

The quiet Mage gave a small nod, raking his wings back as he and Dio chased after her. Speed was her main advantage, her small size and lightness. In the open air it could buy her a few more precious minutes in the sky, down here, it allowed her to thread a path that the others simply couldn't follow.

The fire picking up again was a sure sign that they were heading in the right direction, the Mages didn't want any interference now that they had their target, but the same trees that slowed the Faeries also made them harder to hit. The trunk of nearby tree burst like a fire cracker spraying flaming splinters, some big enough to be lethal if they hit a weak point in her armor.

Others were twisted, shorn in two, or simply trembled before collapsing into her path.

'Damn . . .' Lydia dove between two falling trunks, screaming past the stunned mages on the ground " . . . them!" And then she was past them, ahead of them on the path to the landing site of Rip Jak and Lord Mortimer.

When she caught sight of the fighting through the Trees, Lydia sucked in a breath.

Mortimer was still alive and on his feet, somehow, but this was a battle that he was losing. Jack was keeping close, Giving mortimer little time to cast or get into the air. With so little practice, his swordsmanship couldn't have been the best, and besides that, he had been wounded in Jack's surprise attack. A condition that was only compounded now as the Spriggan danced around him, forcing the Salamander to play a defensive game or else be killed instantly.

No time for anything elegant. "Dio, Flamberg, Standard extraction." Lydia instructed.

They'd all faithfully memorized the formations and strategies that Mortimer had devised in ALO, more so now that there magic and weapons were real and dangerous. Once the game had become real, many of the Salamander Knights had retired, understandably unwilling to risk their lives so readily. The remainder had made up for the loss in their dedication and ceaseless training.

The trio acted as one, Lydia taking lead, followed by Flamberg and Dio at the rear. It would be her task to disrupt Jack, buy time for Flamberg to grab Mortimer while Dio protected them from the rear. Mobbing Rip Jack and ending him now was tempting, but with the mages so close, they couldn't risk it. They needed the safety of the skies.

Rip's blade licked out again, high, low, high low, and then caught Mortimer out of position, driving into the surprised Lord's side and then back out in a spray of blood, Mortimer didn't even have time to look surprised before tumbling to the ground.

No!

Narrowly missing a tree, kicking off the trunk to give a boost to her change in trajectory, Lydia descended on Jack with a shout of rage, only for the Spriggan to evade her, pirouetting aside with startling grace.

Lydia overshot, speeding up to buy time to recover. Spinning in midair, she positioned her legs, absorbing the impact as she settled onto a tree and then pushed off again, advancing more cautiously this time. Holding her sword in a two handed grip she met the assassin in a flash of blades that left the Spriggan scampering back with a look of open bemusement.

"My my my." Jack laughed in delight. "This fight's really getting a lot more fun than I expected!"

Lydia didn't pay what he was saying any mind. "Flamberg?" She called over her shoulder.

The Mage had set down to check Mortimer's condition, scrabbling for potion bottles that Mortimer simply shoved aside, shaking his head and demanding to be helped to his feet first. Reacting so strongly, there was hopes that his wounds were shallow.

"Can you still fly, Sir?" Flamberg grunted.

A grunted affirmative and a small nod.

"Then lets get back into the . . ."

An ear piercing whistle echoed through the forest, the source, one of the mages crashing through the underbrush. The whistle was repeated again and again in rapid succession. The earth around them erupted upwards as hundred of dark lines were cast into the sky, tracing arcs through the air before plummeting back to ground, coiling among branches, tangling with one another, wrapping around trunks until the evening sky above them was a crisscrossed with layers of black lines and the forest all around was absolutely curtained with them. A nuisance to walk through, a hazard to fly in.

"It worked!" Jack said brightly as he drifted back, hands on hips. "Pretty clever, huh?"

It wasn't a cage, but it was the next best thing, cast over a wide area, they'd be sitting ducks as they navigated through that mess. 'Somebody's been thinking up new tactics.' Lydia thought darkly.

"Flamberg." Lydia instructed calmly. "I'll cast a shield, I want you to start burning through those wires."

"You say that." The mage looked around at the advancing shadows, the earth mages who had set the trap, and the fire, and wind mages that were now closing in. "But . . ."

Leaning against him, Mortimer managed to raise his head enough to cough out a pained laugh. "They're taking us quite seriously. We really should feel honored."

"My Lord!" Lydia reacted.

Mortimer raised a hand to still her. "Nothing too serious, at least nothing apparent . . ." Mortimer rubbed at his side, hand coming away with blood. He finally accepted the health potion from Flamberg, grunting as he it took him like a kick to the teeth.

"Well. What are you waiting for?" Jack called to the mages. They had seemingly arrived at a stalemate, the assassins reluctant to advance, and the Salamander's hesitant to push them.

"The client wants the Leader's body intact for . . . reasons." One of the mages said loudly. "No burning. Nothing that compromises his head."

Jack blinked curiously, his eyes glazing over for a heartbeat, and then smiled, chuckling. "Ahahaha! So, someone discovered a rare drop tied to the Lords? Or is this just how the quest drop goes?" He seemed to wonder out loud.

Lydia took a step back, almost hiding behind her sword. Something about him was very wrong. Very, _very_ wrong.

"Any other instructions you care to add? What about the others?" Jack waited for an answer.

The mage shrugged. "Do as you please, but nothing that risks destroying the primary target."

Nodding with approval."Well, as they say . . ." Rip pulled down on the brim of his hat, voice turning to a menacing growl " . . . If you want something done right . . ."

Rips wings flashed out, he took one step, and then blurred forward, spinning through the maze of cables at a near suicidal pace. Was he insane?! The shock was almost enough for Lydia to hesitate. She saw the swirling cloud of blurred runes surrounding him, saw his hand reaching out. What had he cast? What magic had he used?!

Then he was through the cables and striking out at Lydia, a spinning midair slash that turned his sword into a glinting buzz saw strike. The only option was to guard, kill his momentum so that she could get her own strike in. Her palms stung as swords caught, she was thrown off balance, recovering with her wings until she felt a tug a her foot, black cords binding her leg to the grown.

Jack's toothy smile told her everything. A bind! She slashed down, cutting free from the conjuration barely in time to avoid being bisected by the Assassin's followup.

Fast and highly erratic, that was how Mortimer had described Rip Jack's sword style to Lydia when they had been informed of the assassin's identity. The assessment seemed quite apt now. It was taking all of Lydia's acquired skill in swordcraft to keep pace and fight back. And even then she felt herself losing ground.

'Jack . . . It's like he doesn't even see the _risk_.' She realized, he didn't hesitate, didn't slow down, didn't fear. Oblivious to danger. Like some sort of machine thrown right at them. It was bound to get him killed eventually, but it also allowed him to deal death like the reaper himself.

Jack had been the signal for the other mages to move in, not daring to use powerful magic for fear of . . .'destroying' Mortimer. They were closing the distance, advancing through the wire curtain or else resorting to more esoteric practices.

One Earth Mage committed a pair of Golems to the fight, walking shields, knuckle dragging stone statues that the other mages used as shelter while Flamberg dedicated himself to roasting them, trading a rapid fire volley of spells back and forth. The Salamander's raw power was tempered by the Mage's ability to perry, throwing his weaker, faster attacks back at him and forcing Flamberg to waist time with more powerful spells.

Crouching beside his Guard, Mortimer wasn't leaving the fighting to them alone. Three incoming hails of wind arrows, a quick chant, holding his sword at his side, the finely etched runes along its length glowing a sullen orange, Mortimer slashed the sword forward in a downward stroke. A hexagon of light flashed into existence between Flamberg and the wind constructs, flickering as it swallowed up the spells, and then spit them back out along their same trajectory.

The Dark Magic spell Reflect, just another trick in Mortimer's seemingly bottomless Arsenal.

Not expecting the spell, not knowing how to respond, mages ducked and covered, threw up wind shields, or else screamed and died, skewered by their own magic.

Lydia found that she couldn't conjure up any sympathy for them. Not too long ago, she would have been the sort of person to cry while seeing pointless violence on television, knowing that it was real people suffering. Now, they were just the enemy.

One of the Golems went down, Dio's Zweihander cleaving deeply into its frame, enough for it to lose balance. Enough for him to finish it with a close range Plasmoid Spear, the stone turning red hot and then molten, scorching even trees standing a half dozen meters away.

A fire mage splashed flames across Dio's armor, the magic and the heat barely phasing the heavy tank who turned to his latest opponent. The Mage smiled viciously as he raised his wand, spots appeared across the surface of the Fae alloy armor like fireflies, glowing brighter and then spreading outward. Dio growled and then screamed in pain, clutching at his arm as it began to glow cherry red.

The Mage barred a sadistic smile, which turned to confusion, and then terror as the tank didn't fall, letting out a roar of rage, throwing himself forward on his wings and wrapping the smoldering, glowing armor around the fire Mage's _neck_. Now it was the mage's turn to scream as he skin was seared away by his own spell, a sound like the damned that mercifully ended as Dio slammed the man's head into a nearby tree with enough force to render it unrecognizable.

The show of brutality stunned the nearby mages, desperate hails of wind needles and and earth magic conjured chains assailing the tank from all sides. The magic washed over his armor like a heavy hail, stronger spells leaving dents, a few even finding weak points, doing harm. But the Salamander was blood lusted now, sword swinging down and through the air shield of one mage, and then through the entirety of the mage as well, kick delivered to a fallen man, caving in his chest.

They were doing damage, horrific damage, whatever these men had learned about Faeries, they had either not believed or not realized the difference between the merely average and the _elite._

Elites such as Lydia and her squad. The swordswoman burst through the flames of the mage Commander, the man had come to Rip Jack's aid when he had failed to finish her quickly. The man who she now had every intention of killing.

Somewhere inside of her, that part of her that still remembered being a frail human, not being able to fly or walk through flames, or move with the speed and grace of her thoughts, shuddered at the realization. But that part was kept locked away while she fought, behind layers, and layers of mental fortification. It was better that way.

Sword grazing his cheek, slicing hair, flame whip burning the leather of her forearm grieves. A wing assisted jump, grabbing one of the cords to speed her turn, coming down from above, not with a sword blow, but a brutal strike from the armored knuckles of her left hand gauntlet, cracking the man's skull, either unconscious or dead.

She meant to be sure of the job when fire started to arrive from above. Kyo, who had kept to the skies as back up, had been able to spot them by the fighting and was now firing down into the trees. No. _At_ the trees. Severing the wires that had been strung over head, rather recklessly it seemed as tension caused several to snap in place, cracking like immense, insanely lethal whips, but more importantly, opening a path to minimize their exposure before climbing out of reach.

"My Lord, go!" Lydia cried out as she blocked another strike from an annoyed Rip Jack, the assassin grinned as he dove past her, running and vaulting, flaring his wings to gain speed on a straight path for Mortimer.

"Heads up!" Lydia shouted her warning. Flamberg re-tasked a ready spell, throwing a fire ball right into Rip Jack's path only for a flash of light and burst of smoke to give the assassin a chance to escape. Threading through a stand of wires like a grotesque spider, another chant as he scrambled, a triumphant laugh as Mortimer was dragged to the ground by a high level binding spell.

"Ta ta Lord Mortimer!" Jack shouted gleefully as he wound up for the killing blow and then swiftly broke off to evade another broken capable whipping about dangerously. This time there hadn't been an explosion from overhead to signal the destruction of another cluster of the Trees. No, this time, the tree had simply fallen with barely a crack to signal that it had been felled.

A laugh filled the forest, stopping everyone in their tracks, mages, Salamanders, and Rip Jack. It sounded like the laugh of the damned, or maybe the laugh of the damning.

And then, just for a moment, silence reigned. The sounds of battle lost. The sounds of the forest long fallen silent and slow to start again.

"Who the hell is that?" One of the mages grunted. "Who the hell is that! Show yourself and – eeeeyyaaahh!" The spark of light had snapped through the forest in the blink of an eye, striking the ground at the man's feet and igniting, it was like he'd been caught at the heart of giant candle, and he was the wick.

Lydia looked around, catching sight of something that may or may not have been a figure moving through the trees. That spell . . . Mortimer, Flamber, and Kyo all knew that one, it was a powerful single target spell known by most elite fire mages, but usually too long to chant to be of much use. None of them could have launched it in the middle of a heated battle.

"I'm not hiding." The voice chuckled through the trees. "I'm hunting!"

The pause had not been wasted by Flamberg who had by now finished freeing Mortimer from his binds. Their Lord looked around with them, suspicion blossoming into a hopeful little smirk. "Well then. This is interesting." He called out at the top of his lungs. "Though I would _prefer_ that some of them by taken alive. You understand the importance of good information, don't you, Morgiana?"

Now answer at first, and then. "Ruining my fun again I see."

Lydia nearly jumped out of her skin as the voice spoke, not echoing this time, right at her side. If she'd known less about Morgiana's build, she might not have been able to believe that the Lady of the Spriggans could simply materialize out of the shadows. But she did know, and she could, barely, believe it.

"Damn it, another Faerie bitch! Were we compromised?!"

"Hate to break it to you boys." Morgiana gave the forest full of Mages a look of bored contempt. "But you dumb asses have been compromised for a while now."

Clinging to Morgiana's shoulder, the tiny form of a battered looking Pixie looked on angrily, clutching a needle as a sword in one hand, and large feather in the other.

Then, ignoring the Mages completely, Morgiana's eyes turned to the Assassin at the heart of it all, lips curving into a feral smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Good evening Jack."

"Lady Morgiana." The Spriggan assassin bowed, going so far as to remove his hat in a show of propriety. "A lovely evening for some PVP wouldn't you say?"

The dark laugh made even Lydia's Salamander blood run cold. "Yes. Lovely." Morgiana agreed. "I don't suppose you'll come quietly now that I've found you?"

"Why?" The Assassin's lips twitched in bemusement. "Whatever for? No, I'm afraid this will have to be like always. _My Lady._" An exagerated bow.

Nobody else in the forest that night could have known what 'Like Always' meant. But they didn't need to. Everyone knew this fight was about to break out again, even as they saw the shadows that were not mages moving in around them. And the multicolored lights descending from the night sky.

"Lieutenant, what do we do!" One of the Mages turned to the man who had to be their last remaining officer.

The Mage officer licked his lips, looking all around in disbelief. He could have surrendered, right here and now, but that wasn't the way this place worked, and Lydia wasn't expecting it. Breathing a short prayer, the man readied his wand. "For the sake of our Founder, and for the dream of Reconquista!"

The Mages and their Spriggan ally readied themselves, now surrounded, the tables were turned.

Morgiana snorted bitterly. "Fine then." She unlimbered her spear spinning the weapon with the ease and grace of a baton. "If you won't come quietly." A soft hissing -snick- filled the air as the edge of the Jotun's Spear intersected with the trunk of a a tree. Slowly, the tree began to topple away from her, expertly cut to a near workman's finish by the impossibly sharp edge. "Then Big Sis is just going to have to punish you!"


	30. Dust to Dust

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 10 - Part 3

The last thing that Caramella remembered was hitting a hard wall with her very hard head. After that, the next thing she was able to make sense of was the sensation of stumbling, being moved along on her own two feet, leaning on someone for guidance and support. But between point A and B, all she could recall was a blur of noise, lights, and a whole lot of shouting.

Whatever. At the moment, Caramella would have been satisfied if the world would just stop spinning, thankyouverymuch.

"Nnggh . . . What in the hell happened?" She tried to open her eyes, only to realize that they were already open. Her vision was filled with splotches that made the shadowy street even more impenetrable, and obscured the features of whoever she was leaning against.

"Shh!" A voice hissed beside her. "Keep your voice down."

Caramella squinted at the unwelcome intrusion beating at her ears and her aching head. "Hey there, Hay Hair." For some reason, she found this immensely funny at the moment, snickering a little despite the way it added to the throbbing of her skull.

The blonde woman supporting her scowled at the monicker. "It's Agnes, _Lieutenant _Agnes. Miss Caramel." The musketeer reminded her.

"Then you should remember that its . . . nngh . . . Ca-ra-mel-la." She pushed away from the Royal Guard Lieutenant, turning to place a hand against a nearby wall to steady herself. At that moment, Caramella felt someplace between violently dizzy, and urgently ready to throw up. Still, somehow, she managed to keep her insides on her insides. "And you didn't answer my question."

Agnes came to a stop beside her, casting a furtive glance back the way they had come, or at least Caramella thought it must have been the way they'd come, it wasn't too clear right now. The street they were on, it would have been a dingy little alleyway even in Aincrad's 50th Floor hub, was mostly bare of people, only a handful moving hurriedly or poking heads curiously from doors and windows. Now that she had a minute to get her bearings, she could hear something in the distance, pointed ears perking up as she listened for the far off sounds.

Shouting and not too distant bells ringing in the night. It reminded her a lot of York for some reason . . . Of York. Caramella's eyes widened as the shattered pieces started to fit themselves back together. A hand reached up to a spot of dampness near her temple, returning with a small amount of tacky red. Her head shot up, a motion that she immediately regretted as the world started to heave beneath her again. A steadying arm appeared before her and she took it gratefully.

"What . . . how?" So many questions not enough time. What the hell had happened!

"You were barely conscious when I reached you." Agnes said. "How much do you remember?"

"I . . ." Caramella hesitated as the memory came back to her. "Was an idiot." She muttered under her breath. Yep, letting herself get taken out like a noob by a surprise attack, not her finest moment. "What the hell happened after that?"

"We were attacked." Agnes explained, head on a swivel, especially scanning the clouding skies. "A kill team sent to clean up any witnesses. I suppose this was Janglers doing. We managed to get away in the confusion, thanks to the Germanian, but I lost track of miss Zerbst and the others."

"Damn." The Faerie Swordswoman cursed half at the recap, and half at the feeling of her own head. Like her skull was stuffed with cotton balls. She had to face it, she wasn't in any shape to fight. And it didn't matter how much of an ultimate badass Miss Musketeer was if the competition was seven trained Mages. "So what next? We go get help?"

"Agreed." Acting with a practiced motion, Agnes had drawn her pistol and was in the midst of reloading as she continued to speak. "We get back to the Palace as quickly as we can and alert Captain Hammond. He'll know what to do next. Can you move?" Agnes asked.

Leaning away from the wall, testing her own balance cautiously, Caramella nodded. "I wouldn't want to try flying," It would probably end up in a quick fall to her death. "But I should be able to stay on my feet. Thanks . . . for . . . asking . . ." She trailed off. That appeared to be the limit of the musketeer's concern for her well being.

'Whatever.' Caramella thought, doing her best not to sway too drunkenly as she followed after Agnes at a trot, hand tailing along the wall for support.

"We must make it back as quickly as possible." Agnes said. "If the Conspirators are moving so brazenly, it means that there mask has become more of a hindrance than an asset, it must be because they intend to launch their attack tonight." She grimaced. "Perhaps they already have."

That was enough to get Caramella's blood pumping. So this was the end game.

A group of men, a dozen in all, carrying buckets, wands, and ladders, ran past them in the opposite direction.

"They're heading to fight the fires that were started by Janglers and his men." Agnes explained for Caramella's benefit. "The Noble district is stonework construction, but the commoner quarters are mostly of wood and thatch, they'll go up like kindling if the fires are allowed to spread. -Tch-" She clicked her tongue. "And most of the Royal Guards have been tasked with Guarding the Gala."

"Wait, aren't there like tons of mages in this city?" Caramella wondered out loud. Tristain was supposed to have a stupidly large proportion of its population able to perform magic, so what gave?

"There is a world of difference between an aristocrat," Agnes said bitterly, "And the petty nobility. The low Nobles will be on on there way to help, but if this is arson, I imagine most will be pressed protecting their own homes and businesses. If this is allowed to grow, the cure will doubtless be worse than the poison. The aristocrats will see to their own interests and let the rest burn out, like they always do."

"That seems like a hell of a blunt way to put it. Caramella observed. "Especially for someone who works for said Noble assholes."

Agnes cast her a frigid glare. "Watch your tongue or I shall cut it out. Princess Hernietta and Queen Marianne are nothing like the decadent Nobility that infest this country."

"Whatever you say." Caramella backpedaled with all the grace her fuzzy mind would allow. "Didn't mean anything by it. But setting arson fires? So just who the hell were those guys back there?"

"At a guess." Agnes stopped at the next intersection, halting Caramella as she peered around the corner. It hadn't seemed like they were very far from the Castle before. Even a _big_ city was pretty small in a place like Tristain. But now it felt miles away.

"Enforcers, Royal Gendarmes assigned to the tax offices. In other words, Janglers own men. He probably has their loyalty through their purse strings."

Even more traitors, just great. And meanwhile, KoKo and two of their Tristanian allies were very likely still fighting them.

"Crap. Just how tough are these guys?" She asked as she followed Agnes around the corner, picking up her pace despite the way that she stumbled. This particular street didn't cut straight, instead winding and turning at odd angles, at its far end, Caramella could make out lights and the noises of festivities. News of what was going on deeper in the Commoner district was slow in arriving. A scrawny youth ran past them, shouting 'fire' at the top his lungs. Well, so much for the good mood.

Agnes grimaced as she gave the question some thought and then shook her head. "They'll be trained fighters, experienced in handling errant nobility. Not the normal soft headed breed."

Which made sense. Ponying up was probably a seemed a lot less desirable when you could wield a fist full of hellfire in protest. The tax men would need equally impressive muscle to make sure everything stayed on the level. It just kept getting better and better.

"Clear the way! Clear the streets for the Gendarmes!" At the far end of the path, a pair of men, uniformed, and armed with batons that Caramella fully expected to double as magical foci, were cutting a path down the street, turning their heads in every direction. So the cops were showing up for once. Looked like they were finally getting some luck tossed their way.

Beginning to raise a hand to the two approaching men, words shaping as she began to shout. Caramella was caught off guard as a hand closed around her wrist. In her unbalanced state, she wasn't able to put up the best fight as Agnes leveraged her against the wall. Wasn't able to put up any fight at all as the Musketeer pressed close to her. Wasn't really able to do anything as firm lips crushed against her own, pressing her head against the wall behind her.

A moment later, her surprised shouts were stifled by something warm and wet intruding on the inside of her mouth, pressing down with entirely too much force to be pleasant. Caramella found herself sitting in a place somewhere between concussion, and her brain rebooting from a corrupted .img file. Cracking one eye open, she watched the Gendarmes pass over Agnes' shoulder, one man snorting softly.

"Eh, looks like he's having some fun tonight."

"Oi, shut your mouth."

Agnes kept at it for a while long, until the two men were well out of sight and then some. About the time it would have started to look awkward, more awkward then it already did anyways, she finally released her hold, leaning back to allow a flustered Caramella enough room to fall to her knees.

"Pfft . . . pht . . . What . . . the . . . hell?" Caramella gasped between bouts of spitting. She was fairly sure that it wasn't all her saliva.

"Those men were Gendarms, the same as Janglers' forces. There's no guarantee we could trust them." Agnes wiped her mouth on the cuff of her blouse. "A Faerie would stand out walking the streets of the Capital at a time like this. And I needed to quiet you quickly."

"You needed to play hockey with my _tonsils_?" Caramella was incredulous, probing her inner lip where she'd cut herself on her own teeth. For all of her other prowess, Agnes sure as hell didn't know how to _kiss_.

A small look of bemusement crossed the Musketeer's face. "I'd hardly spare it a second thought."

Caramella didn't know whether or not to be insulted by the jibe. She decided she'd just let it slide. Accepting a hand back to her feet. "You're lucky that your _cute_." Caramella said under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Let's just keep . . ." A minute sound above them, too loud and heavy for anything that ought to have been standing on a shingled roof. Even in a daze, Caramella wasn't so far gone that those instincts wouldn't kick in, especially after the jolt she'd just received.

"Get back!" A hand closed around the collar of the Musketeer's blouse, pulling her her back as wings briefly flared. For the second time in one night, Caramella found herself slamming backwards into a wall as a hole the size of her thumb was blown out of the ground where Agnes had just been standing.

"What?!" Agnes looked back over her shoulder, eyes falling on the shattered stone and then turning to the sky above. "Move!"

Then it was Caramella's turn to be pulled along as two more air bullets punched holes in the cobble stones. High above them, walking calmly along the rooftop, she could see the cloaked figure taking pot shots.

"They found us!" Caramella warned.

"A truly superb deduction!" Agnes snapped back, the heat melting even her stoney demeanor.

Breaking into a run, dodging left and right to throw off aim. Caramella stumbled and rolled, half falling to her hands and knees before picking up speed, cursing all the while. If she could only get her feet under herself, get into the air . . . She'd be a sitting duck in this shooting gallery, assuming she didn't drunkenly crash face first into a sign or wall and end it all.

The few people on the street dove for cover or slammed their doors and windows, no one was willing to aid them, and Caramella couldn't fault them at all. This wasn't a fight a Commoner would want to get involved in. Well, she glanced over to Agnes who was keeping up without the benefit of Faerie strength, a normal commoner anyways.

Agnes spun around quickly, long enough to take aim at the figure chasing them. -Crack-! And for a second the spells let up, long enough for them to take another corner, Agnes grabbing at Caramella to steady her. "This way, back towards the river!"

"Where the hell are we going?" Caramella wondered out loud, not that she expected an answer, but Agnes seemed too happy to supply one.

"Here this one, it's a warehouse." The musketeer explained. "We can slip out through the back and down to the waterways.

The building, more of a large wooden barn, was closed and locked for the night, the doors guarded by a heavy iron locks. Agnes didn't bother with them in the least, quick as a cat, vaulting up atop a stack of wood crates to a locked and barred window.

"Leave that to me." Caramella grunted wedging her sword in scabbard between the bars and window frame. With her strength and the added leverage, it was enough to tear the bolts free. Even before the bars had clanged to the stone street, Caramella heard a more sinister noise, a hissing crack mere meters from her ears, wood bursting as it was struck.

"Come on!" Agnes growled, pulling her into the darkness beyond.

They fell, landing on something soft, or at least, softer than Caramella had been expecting. Fabric sacks piled high along the side of the wall, along with barrels and crates waiting to be filled. She felt something sticking to her fingers, and the tacky blood that had come away when she'd probed at her head. In the moonslight, where it was wasn't soaked red, Caramella could see something white and powdery.

"Flour?" She wondered out loud.

"A military storehouse. One of dozens." Agnes confirmed. "Supplies are gathered and stockpiled here before being transported to ships at dock. This one is provisions."

More rattling, like hail stones striking the wall, hail stones that were punching holes to let in the evening light.

"No time now." Agnes restated the obvious, beckoning for Caramella to follow her deeper into the shadows. "We can head out this way if we . . ."

A loud -crack- a burst of splinters grazing Caramella's cheek. A support beam, part of one of the wooden frame shelves lining the walls, had been broken like a toothpick, the contents collapsing into their path, barring their way. Crates and sacks fell, crashing to the floor, barrels of wine or water bursting as they struck.

When the silence returned, a voice echoed in the dark. "That wouldn't happen to be you would it, Lieutenant? I should have known when I saw you. The Captain's Protestant Whore. Tell me now, has the Crown grown so pathetic that it needs the aid of a Commoner and Wounded Faerie to save itself?"

Agnes gritted her teeth, turning slowly in the direction of the voice. There was a bit of an echo in here, but not enough to disguise the source. A second pistol fell into the Musketeer's hand, drawn from a spare holster under her cloak.

No, this wasn't right. Caramella thought fuzzily. Why speak out loud in the dark. He already knew Agnes had a gun. And hadn't the Musketeer just said Janglers and his squad were badasses? Unless . . . 'Unless he's listening for us!'

Agnes pulled the trigger, a click, and then a spray of sparks as the wheel lock spun up.

"No!"

Even before the powder caught and the gun fired, a hiss of air sped through the space that Agnes would have occupied if Caramella hadn't knocked her to the ground. The flash of the muzzle briefly illuminated the interior of the warehouse, enough for both of them to see that their attacker wasn't standing where his voice had come from.

"Such a shame. Maybe next time." The voice chuckled, this time coming from every direction.

Caramella and Agnes looked to each other, a shared look of dread. They'd thought they'd have a chance two on one, in the dark, to either ambush him or get away. Now though, it seemed that they were the ones being hunted. Agnes raised a finger to her lips, a silent nod. They couldn't give him anything to listen for.

"My. You've already figured it out?" A cluck of disapproval came from all directions. "Even staying quiet as a mouse won't save you. I'll still hear you. I _hear_ everything."

Which meant of course _magic_. Caramella would have groaned if she'd thought it wouldn't draw fire. This guy wasn't leaving them many options. Run for the back? He'd hear their foot steps, or just the fabric and metal of their armor, neither of them were exactly equipping stealth gear. Surprise attack? They had no clue where he was, and he was using his magic to his advantage, hiding the noises of his own movements, getting into their heads.

Agnes tapped her on the shoulder ever so softly. Caramella looked up. A pale sliver of moonlight fell on her eyes, enough for Caramella to see where the was looking, at Caramella's sword, tapping it softly and then carrying a finger across he own jugular.

Yeah, she wanted to kill this bastard too. Didn't mean it was going to happen. And then Agnes did something really, really, stupid.

In a clatter of metal and fabric, she rolled away from Caramella, the space between them erupting in a blast of flesh rending wind. What the hell was she doing?!

Diving for cover, Agnes shouted at the top of her lungs. "Jangles! By order of the Crown and in the name of our Good and Noble Queen, I demand your surrender to stand trial for the high crime of treason!"

Another wind blast, another miss as it sank into Caramella's mind just what the suicidal musketeer was doing. Keep him shooting, keep him moving, most of all, keep him distracted.

"You think I harbor any lingering sense of loyalty to that pathetic woman or here rusted crown?" The voice echoed, but Janglers couldn't hide the direction of his attack. There had been sacks of flour stacked up on one of the collapsed shelves. "The Kingdom she left to rot? And her daughter, who would give the nation over to the Fae, to people like you?" The sacks had now spilled and were filling the air, enough for her to see the trail of the air bullets that the mag was firing off, enough to see that they led back to one spot.

Agnes was making a ruckus, knocking over barrels and pots and tossing pans across the room. Janglers might have been able to hear everything, but it would be an awful lot to take in. Caramella took her chance to move, stumbling again, cursing her own clumsiness. But she could see why Agnes was doing it this way, no way in hell would she be able to move like that right now.

"It will be your death to underestimate the common people, Janglers?"

A rasping laugh. "I've made my livings keeping you dregs in check. The common people, the foundation of the Kingdom! I do believe I'll build my new estate on your broken backs."

And then another -crack- as Agnes fired off yet another pistol. Just how many of those was she carrying? Either that or she was a master of reloading on the move. Whatever, in the intervening moments, Caramella had managed to work her way around, behind Janglers. Who was just another shadow among many, barely more than a silhouette of blackness.

Head throbbing as she remembered her humiliation, she could think of nothing but dealing out some payback as she closed closed, doing her best to stock, to stay below the noise that Agnes was kicking up. It almost worked, but something, maybe the -snick- of her sword, maybe a last stumbling -clatter- tipped him off. The figure of Janglers spun around, and at the last possible instant leaped away. Not enough. The spell must have been some kind of specialty, something that Janglers could keep up without even thinking about it, because his scream managed to come from all directions too.

"YOU . . . YOU DARE!" All of the clinical calm from moments before lost. It sounded like someone had just let the lunatic out of his straight jakcet.

Caramella was swept off of her feet and sent skidding across the floor until she hit a folded stack of canvas. She looked back up and felt the blood draining from her face. She hadn't had the opportunity to see a mage this pissed off before, it turned out that they could be damn terrifying when they just let the magic manifest. Caramella felt like she was in one of those horror movies with the teenage psychic killer, it was rom night, and she was expendable extra number thirteen.

"YOU DARE TO STRIKE ME!"

Agnes sure did, the Musketeer had seen everything, and must have thought it was a golden opportunity, rushing behind Janglers, full tilt into the weakened shelf at his back, frame wobbling under the unbalanced load, remaining beams cracking. The contents of the highest shelves spilling down to crash into a windshield swirling around Janglers as he turned and with a swipe of his wand, threw Agnes to land bodily beside Caramella.

How considerate, now they could die together. Not that she was crazy about that plan. Not that Agnes was crazy about it either, already struggling to reload her last wheel lock, fumbling to wind the firing spring.

"DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? JANGLERS THE REAPER'S TONGUE! I'VE KILLED MEN UNAWARES BEFORE YOUR ANIMAL PARENTS RUTTED YOU INTO EXISTENCE! YOU DARE TOUCH ME?!"

Clawing as the slash across his face, eyes glittering with hate. The Mage stepped forward, stilling barring his wind shield, kicking up a storm, wind splinters dancing at his feet, dust spinning up around him . . . dust . . . flour!

"Here's a stupid idea." Caramella grunted.

"What . . ?" Agnes didn't have time to ask more.

Grabbing one of the sacks beside her, Caramella rolled into an over shoulder throw, nearly face planting as she released, sending the bag, and its high glucose payload flying write into Janglers path, where it burst harmlessly and was swept up in the swirling tornado of wind magic, incidentally spreading into into a fine cloud.

So stupid! Caramella blamed her inner pyromaniac . . . and her Grandpa.

Snatching the wound wheel lock from Agnes's hands. "Hey, that's not loaded yet, do you even . . ."

"Doesn't matter!" Caramella uttered a small prayer and made a mental note to really buckle down and learn some more combat oriented magic, if she survived this. Pulling the trigger she threw the pistol into the oncoming cloud of flower and hatred and grabbed hold of Agnes. The only way out was the way they'd come in, it would have been a heck of a needle to thread if she'd been flying solo, and without a concussion.

Wings flaring, slamming into her load and carrying them both in a careening arc, chased by a hail of wind bullets, her shoulder clipped on the window frame with a unpleasant tearing sensation, and then she felt herself being hit from behind like she'd just back flopped into a pool. The heat proved her wrong as she was sent tumbling end over end across the pavement, finally crashing to a stop.

"Miss Caramella!" Agnes was shaking her, Hay Hair was looking a lot more like lightly singed hair now as she gazed down grabbing at Caramella's face, pulling her eye open to check. "Miss Caramella, can you hear me? Are you alright?"

Yeah, she could hear her alright. She could talk back too. "W-well . . . that was a thing." Caramella gasped, sitting up slowly and wincing as she felt her shoulder flare into pain. Yeah, Kino probably wouldn't be too happy with her. She was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

"That was the most suicidal, idiotic . . ." Agnes shook her head. "Where did you even learn something like that?!"

"My Grandpa." Agnes blinked. Caramella shrugged. "He was a farmer." Or liked to play farmer after he retired anyways. Dust explosions were a nasty thing, unless you were setting them for fun as a prelude to the _real_fireworks. Best vacation ever.

Looking over the Musketeer's shoulder, Caramella was mildly surprised to see that the warehouse was still standing. Not really a miracle, the flower that had burst had been finely distributed by Janglers wind shield. Then all that glucose was primed to burn, very, very, quickly. But the rest was still packed tight or too finely distributed to go off. Grandpa would say it didn't meet all the points of the Explosion Pentagon. Save for the flickering glow of a few small flames, the smoke pooring from the window, the exterior of the warehouse was almost unblemished.

Agnes starred at the warehouse for a moment longer, as if expecting the Mage to burst through the wall screaming at them. But it didn't happen. Caramella somehow doubted he was going to be getting back up from something like that. And if he did, she'd rather just fall on her own sword.

"Well then." The Faerie got to her feet, dusting off her pants legs before grabbing hold of Anges to steady herself. "Love to stick around, but I think we've got a party to crash."

Agnes' answer was drowned out by the familiar whistling scream and thunder clap -boom- of a firework. It took Caramella a moment to realized that there hadn't been an accompanying flash of light in the sky.

* * *

And now you all know why Caramella is immune to Kirito's harem effect ;-)


	31. God Save the King

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 10 p Part 4

The pageantry of a Royal Gala.

As a little girl, Montmorency, like most little Noble Girls she supposed, had been absolutely taken by the stories, the rumors and gossip that would circulate for months, even years after the fact. Tales of Princes and Princesses, music and dancing, rare performances and entertainments, fine foods and even finer drink of rare and exotic vintage. The parties held at the Royal Palace seemed like a bright center to the social universe that she had been born into, and even at a young age she had fervently imagined what it would be like to be invited to such an occasion. It had all seemed so delightfully innocent at the time.

Only as she grew older, more aware of herself and the place she was expected to take in society, did the young Montmorency daughter begin to develop a deeper and more personal fascination with the social events held by the Crown, one born of her own family's history.

There had been a time, still in living memory, when the Montmorencys would have been invited as a matter of course. When the Montmorency patriarch would have been courted as eagerly as the Queen herself. Influence born of their status as ambassadors to the Water Spirits coupled with well developed land holdings had, for a time, served to make the Montmorencys impossibly prosperous and much favored by the Crown as political allies.

But that time was over now, ended long before Montmorency had been born. Father blamed the misfortune that had been brought on their family on the Water Spirits of Ragdorian Lake. The Spirits had failed to abide their compact, and as their ambassadors to the Kingdom, the Montmorencys had been punished in their stead.

Montmorency wasn't so sure on the matter. Father had been barely more than an infant at the time, and most of the Nobility believed the ruin had been the fault of their own hubris, their lands and wealth stripped as reparations to the families and estates they had wronged in their complaisance. In any case, the days of Royal courtship were long over for her family.

And yet, Monmon had dreamed, she had _longed_ to be here even just once, to see, to touch, to hear, as her grandmother and great grandmother once had done. To peer into the beating heart of high society.

And now she was here, at the pleasure of a war hero, her soon to be fiancee, and in the company of the Princess no less! It really was like a dream, exchanging greetings and introductions with Counts and Dukes, walking through the clouds of mage lights, suspended like fireflies in the night air. Sampling foods she had never tasted before, never heard of before. Hearing the compositions of the finest composers played by the most gifted musicians on the finest instruments. Even a Puca band, set to play later in the evening as part of the the ballroom festivities.

Montmorency had taken to it as naturally as breathing, years of ceaseless drill shinning through and in no small part directing her. Father had not wanted this opportunity to go to waste. It was a rare chance for the Montmorecy's to test the waters and establish contacts. Especially needed now after their latest setbacks.

The young Water Mage couldn't help but lay eyes on the Faeries. They were so easy to pick out from the crowds that gathered around them. The Lady of Freelia practically sat at the center of her own cosmos as she told jokes and nibbled on snacks offered by fascinated young noblemen. Lord Zolf and Cardinal Mazarin seemed to have broken into some sort of impromptu discussion, drawing the attention of many of the older Nobility. Lord Thinker had likewise drawn attention from younger men, his fiancee hanging lightly off his shoulder in a tasteful evening gown of aquamarine. Of the Salamander brothers, Lord Mortimer enjoyed a place of honor beside Prince Wales, listening as with interest to the discussions of the Prince and General Gramont, and General Eugene stood out simply by standing up.

Looking away self consciously, the young water mage wasn't quite sure what to think of Tristain's new allies.

Father didn't like them, nor did most of the rest of the family. The Fae were an unwelcome intrusion, one that had already cost their struggling house dearly as over half of the Montmorency holdings had been swallowed up in the environs of Gaddan and its surroundings, converted from painstakingly reclaimed and cultivated fields almost ready for planting, into leagues of hard packed earth, stone, scrub brush, and defensive works the likes of which would have bankrupted a small Duchy.

Years of work erased in the blink of an eye by whatever had brought the Faeries to this land. With that at stake, the hostility leveled on the Fae was all too natural.

Yet for all of that, the Montmorency patriarch was still pragmatic as ever. A lifetime spent undoing the excesses of the past generations and rebuilding the trust ruined by the neglect of their duties as liaisons to the Spirits, had tempered a man who might have otherwise been quite rash. Father's dislike of the Faeries extended only as far as the borders of the City of Gaddan, and not at all to the contents of their librariers or purses.

Tonight was as much about business as it was a chance for her to indulge in her fantasies. To make her familiy visible, to make connections. And so Montmorency had dutifully obeyed her family's wishes, tearing herself away from examining the sights and exchanging gossip to court with in turn the key figures that she had been told to look out for.

In the company of the Princess, it had turned out to be an almost trivial task. Princess Henrietta could not help but draw a crowd to her person as she orbited the party, exchanging greetings and small talk, a crowd that reliably contained the most powerful and influential individuals seeking to pay their respects.

There were the expected allies of the Crown of course, Count Woestte, and Count La Ramee, Baron Gramont and his sons, and the Duke and Duchess de la Valliere, both in their finest for the night. It was an odd experience to realize that the refined looking woman who greeted the Princess humbly was in fact the mother of the Zero.

In fact, Montmorency turned her head. Where was Louise tonight? Wasn't she an old friend of the Princess? A Royal playmate in her earlier years, coupled with her family connections and recent accomplishments, she should have been expected to be here tonight. It was a puzzle, but not one that Montmorency spent much time trying to decipher. Her goals had been clearly laid out and there was no time for fruitless speculation.

Montmorency had exchanged small words of greetings with the Duke and Duchess, wishing them both well on behalf of her father. Her greetings were much the same with Count Woestte with the addition of dropping a comment about the Count's ongoing agriculture endeavors, experiencing a good deal of difficulty thanks to the marsh conditions of his lands, and how he might benefit from some of the reclamation methods that the Montmorency's had been refining.

The Count hadn't committed to anything, but he had listened until Montmorency was finished and then offered where he might be found recuperating the day after tomorrow if she or one of her family could make the time.

Then there had been Baron Goff. A member of the martial Nobility, elderly, formerly a purser of the Navy and still very tightly tied to that institution by old friendships. No heirs to speak of, but a slew of bastards. His title was expected to be inherited by his younger Cousin or his Cousin's sons. Lands located in Eastern Tristain near the trading city of Binche where the Baron occupied himself mainly in the lumber trade. Hard lumber, essential for ship building. It was a trade that was destined to rise in value now, in fact already was. If not for the small problem . . .

"Begging your pardon Baron Goff." Montmorency took the Baron at an opportune moment, just as Midori and Guiche had finished regaling him with stories of their exploits on Albion.

The graying old aristocrat looked out from beneath bushy eyebrows, blinking curiously. "Ah, yes my dear . . . dear?"

"Montmorency." Montmorency offered. "Montmorency Margarita La Fere de Montmorency." She offered her full name carefully as she curtsied. No point in leaving anything out.

The Baron looked ever so slightly surprised. "Montmorency? As in _a_ Montmorency?"

She nodded slowly. "The very same, Baron Goff."

"I must admit, it's been ages since I've seen a Montmorency at such an auspicious event." He sounded almost nostalgic. Monmon wrinkled her nose. That her family would be considered an . . . an antique! "Tell me, how is Horst doing? I would suppose he'd be your Grandfather."

"Passed away I'm afraid." Montmorency offered flatly. Grandfather had been dead a very long time, the ruin of the family had ruined his health, and he had died long before father had been fully grown. "His son, my father, is the current Count de Montmorency."

"I see, I see . . ." Baron Goff nodded his head slowly, heavily, as if it had been a reminder of his own mortality. Montmorency cringed, kicking herself for doing something to spoil his genial mood. But sympathy seemed to win out and the the old Mage reached out, patting her gently on the forearm. "A true shame. You're family lost a great man with his passing."

"Surely." Montmorency dipped her head. "But I haven't come to reminisce about the past, Sir. In fact, I've come to speak of the future."

The Baron chuckled softly. "I'm sure you have. As is the imperative of the young. Well, then, a wet behind the ears Montmorency. How can an old shrew be of Service?"

Montmorency smiled carefully. "It . . . would actually pertain to your business dealings."

"Oh?"

"Forgive me, but earlier, I overheard you mentioning shipping difficulties." She hadn't actually, but father had been very thorough in her instruction and it was very likely that the matter had already been brought up this evening.

The Baron scowled suddenly, proving her guess correct. "It's the blasted Oise. Water levels have changed since the Faeries appeared." He glanced over his shoulder. "Not to point fingers, God save the Queen! The snow melt _should_ have made the river passable to barges, but now . . . "

"The river is unusually low for this time of year." Montmorency concluded, receiving a look of surprise from the Baron who could not have expected a school girl to be so knowledgeable. Some thought that they could thank the Fae for that as well. ALfheim may have spared the more developed regions its trespass, mostly, but the blending of the two lands had not come without changes. Rivers and lakes changing course, but also the canals ways that they fed. Most were unaffected or easily modified, but a few would need extensive work to be serviceable again. Or, as in this case, had become serviceable in entirely new ways.

"Why . . . yes, but how did . . ."

A smile. "Father is as troubled by this development as you. I'm sure the mobs infesting the rivers don't make things any easier. Tell me, have you considered shipping on the Scheldt?"

The Baron blinked in surprise. "The Scheldt? You mean down to Ragdorian?"

Montmorency nodded again.

The Baron snorted as if the idea wasn't worth his time. "Don't tell me the Spirits would suffer my traffic! I've heard no news that their feelings towards your family is any better than it was a generation ago."

And of course, Baron Goff would be quite right, the Spirits would never tolerate gross shipping across the surface of Ragdorian lake. But that wasn't what she was suggesting.

"King Phillips Canal." She gave as an explanation.

Again the Baron looked confused. "But it's a wreck, incomplete, the grading . . ."

The grading and surveying had been done improperly. King Phillip's Canal, named in honor of the late King, had been an ill conceived attempt by an alliance of low Noble Families to reestablish the stranglehold that the Montmorencys had once wielded over bulk shipping along Ragdorian lake. By the time the error in construction had been realized, excavation had nearly been completed and their had simply not been funds to make the required adjustments and install the extensive system of locks that would be required to make the canal workable. And so, the ambitious project had languished for decades, its half filled waterway overgrown with reeds.

The Transition had changed all of that, just as it had changed the water level of the lakes and rivers. With just a little work, Father was certain the Canal could be opened now. So did the Fae.

A pair of Salamanders, natural philosophers working for some new Royal Institution working in parallel with the Academia, had been dispatched to survey the full length of the canal and had already offered their own, admittedly rough estimates. The Faeries were decidedly more cynical about the endeavor than their Tristanian counterparts, but overall, both parties had deemed the project workable.

Lord Mortimer had been willing to go so far as to finance the endeavor as a show of good will. In return, a very reasonable percentage of the profits for traffic would be payed to the Fae treasury.

A raised hand, politely waiting for the Baron's protests to die down. Please, Baron, my family is very knowledgeable when it comes to the waterways of Tristain." Years of careful research in their other business ventures had seen to that. "The changes in the countryside have closed some paths, but they've also opened others. Father has taken up the land rights for the portion of the Canal that bypasses Ragdorian lake in return for making the Canal passable within the next two months."

"Impossible! That canal can't be anything but a half overgrown trench." Goff asserted firmly, but he looked doubtful.

"It's entirely possible." Montmorency assured. "If you consider that the Oise's water level has dropped and the Scheldt's has risen. Most of the Canal way is intact and merely needs to be cleared."

A trivial task for Mages made all the more economical thanks to the new earth moving tools being supplied jointly by the Salamanders, Gnomes, and Leprechauns to take full advantage of peasant and animal labor. That the Gnome earth mages were capable of gross earth moving comparable to a line or triangle mage was also of great benefit.

Montmorency proceeded to list off a general overview of her family's plans. Of course, she didn't dare keep the Baron for long, but she was able to provide an overview that she hoped would at least pique his interest. And it did indeed do that, Baron Goff looking thoughtful as he asked when he might meet with her father to discuss the possibility. Montmorency was only too happy to oblige.

Bidding the Baron farewell, she returned to a patiently waiting Guiche, Henrietta, and Midori.

"Please, forgive me for keeping you waiting Princess." Montmorency dipped her head in apology. "In fact, surely you could have gone on without me."

The Princess smiled sweetly. "It's quite alright, Darling. Actually, I've found listeningto these sort of conversations can be most informative." She waved a hand vaguely to the Gala proper. "You'd be surprised how little a Princess is told by her advisers."

"I can only imagine." Montmorency said politely. It was hard to believe the Princess would not be furnished with whatever facts she requested, and at a moments notice.

Henrietta's eyes widened as if she realized she'd just said something improper. "Oh, that isn't to say that they don't mean well."

She glanced sympathetically to Cardinal Mazarin and then to Prince Wales who was now in the depths of explaining some strategy in general to a group of Navy Officers. Lord Mortimer in particular, appeared to listen most intently, glancing up from time to time to survey the rest of the gardens.

"It's just that sometimes they try to do the thinking for me when I really just want to know for myself." Shaking her head sincerely, the Princess finished. "So no, Miss Montmoreny, it was no trouble at all to wait. In fact, I'd love it if I could continue to be a . . . 'Fly on the wall' she articulated the odd turn of phrase carefully for any other crossing paths tonight."

"As you wish, your highness." Montmorency curtsied once more.

Now, she really _did_ have to find time to 'bump' into Lord Rute, her family was most eager to secure his help in financing a pharmaceutical investment. A bell chimed sweetly three times over the music of the band. But alas, it was not to be just yet. At the same time, Monmon was grateful, at last a chance to look around, to really enjoy herself.

"It's almost time for the fireworks to begin." Midori noted, casting her gazed to the night sky, and the slowly gathering clouds that had just begun to block out the moons. "Probably for the best. It looks like it might rain."

"Ah, a spring shower to cleanse the air and the streets of our fair Capital." Guiche murmured. "A fitting fashion to bring about a new day."

"Whatever." Monmon huffed. "I'm just glad it'll wash all the smoke out of the sky."

And there would be smoke, plenty of it. The Palace had commissioned a truly eye watering display for tonight, as anyone who had seen the barges being towed out could attest. Mortars and rockets, filled to the brim with clever alchemical concoctions, pointed to detonate safely over the river, or at worst, rain down on the fields outside the city proper where any burning wreckage could be put out with relative ease.

"As long as it doesn't start raining until after the display." The Princess pouted. "I'd hate to have it canceled. Lord Mortimer just mentioned to me while we were visiting that they even had a very special display set aside in my honor."

"I guess the Crown can't control the weather." Midori commented with a small shrug of her shoulders and shake of her head.

It wasn't the action itself, but the _way_ that she did it that so alluring. That complete lack of self consciousness. By all rights, Montmorency should have felt insane jealousy. Should have, in fact, wanted nothing more than to drown Guiche's stupid head in a magically conjured deluge. And yet, she didn't. She didn't because . . .

"Ah, I suppose controlling the weather is a power the Crown reserves for _important_ events." Guiche jested. "Canceling weddings and the like."

"Refilling the Royal Baths actually. And making sure of sunny afternoons when I decide to study outside." Henrietta answered with mock seriousness.

"Also, smiting people who make fun of the Crown's ability to control the weather." With hardly a hint of warning, Midori jabbed out, poking Guiche beneath the ribs. It had not been a forceful act, but it still caused Guiche to jump in a most undignified fashion.

A small fit of good natured giggles was shared between the Princess and her retainer. Montmorency laughed too. Because Guiche had been telling the _truth_. Montmorency knew what a cheating Guiche looked like and this wasn't it. He was too sincere, too at ease around Midori. And the water mage could say with absolute confidence that Midori wasn't making the slightest advances either. In fact, she knew exactly what this looked like, this casual prodding and teasing, she wondered if Guiche realized it or if it hadn't occurred to him.

And in any case, Monmon found herself growing quite fond of Midori despite herself, and not just because she'd gotten Guiche into line. She seemed aware of herself, academically aware that she was beautiful, but at the same time, innocently unconscious of what exactly that meant. What sort of upbringing could have lead to that? The way that she countenanced every fluid gestures and change of expression. The slightest tilt of her head or fluttering of lashes.

The closest that she could compare it to was the Kirche von Zerbst, but where the Germanian did such things deliberately, to provoke a response, they just seemed to come naturally to the petite swordswoman.

If it was like Guiche suspected, that she had dedicated her life to perfecting martial technique and her skill with a blade, then maybe there was some truth to her being oblivious to etiquette. If that were the case, Montmorency decided, she would simply have to take it upon herself to make sure it didn't become a problem.

"Now, now, we really should get going then." The Princess said. "I'd like the opportunity to view this with Wales and the others."

And so they had, making their way back through the crowds as the guests slowly clustered together for the viewing. A sort of order could be seen in where everyone was situated, a hierarchy that mapped out where each attendant stood in the eyes of the Crown. Mounting the steps of the balcony overlooking the garden, Montmorency found herself surrounded by some of the Queen's most trusted allies.

The Vallieres of course, and the Gramonts, Count La Ramee and Count Woestte, the Lord Justice. Prince Wales and his advisers. And of course ,the Fae. Lord Mortimer and Lady Alicia already in close attendance with General Eugene making his way through the crowds beneath them, the Lady Asuna standing near to the Prince Valiant in a show of solidarity.

"A productive evening?" Wales asked to his cousin.

"As much as can be expected." The Princess replied. "I'm very pleased by everyone's enthusiasm tonight."

"Well then." Lady Alicia gave a vertebrate popping stretch, "I do hope we can make them a bit _more_ enthusiastic. One of my subordinates, Alden, helped make some of the mixtures for these fireworks you know."

"Oh?" Henrietta looked intrigued. "Is that so?"

"Yup." The Lord of the Caits nodded proudly. "So this is a Cait Syth special tonight. Prepare to be amazed nya!" Alicia stopped suddenly, blinking as she looked around. "Say, has anyone seen Sakuya-chan?"

"Probably delayed by some old Noble Fop." Lord Mortimer suggested, examining his nails with a look of contemptuous boredom.

Alicia rolled her eyes. "Oh come on Mort-kun, she's not going to want to miss this!" The Cait ended her statement by starring intently at the Salamaner.

"Excuse me?" Mortimer quirked a brow.

Alicia simply shook her head, looking mildly irked. "It's no fun if you don't do the thing." She grumbled.

"Ah, Brother!" General Eugene called as he approached. "It's like you've been trying to avoid me tonight!"

The Salamander Lord turned to his General and sibling. "Hardly at all, brother." Mortimer's lips twitched in a small smile. "Simply in the right place at the wrong time . . . Is there something wrong." The small smile fell away, but General Eugene continued to stare for a moment longer.

"No, I just wonder, are you feeling well?"

Mortimer's enforced neutral expression turned to a full frown. "Of course, I'm fine. Perhaps, a little under the weather."

And he might at that, Montmorency noted the way that the Salamander's eyes looked ever so slightly bloodshot. Lack of sleep no doubt from long hours spent convening with the other military officers.

"I see." Eugene answered back, coming to stand beside his brother. From this vantage they had an almost unobstructed view out over the walls in the direction of the river. The barge was out of view of course, hidden behind the nearest buildings, but the fireworks would in full display tonight. Barring an early start to the rain, Montmorency added for her own benefit.

The bell had been chimed early to give people time to take their places, the late arrivals settling in. The last chords of music fading. Lord Mortimer looked intently up at the sky, and then glanced from the corner of his eye to Prince Wales.

In the silence, Montmorency heard a commotion coming from behind them, glancing over her shoulder, a group of guards were barring the way to someone trying to emerge from the Palace proper. They were saying something, but she couldn't quite make it out, and a moment later it was lost as the grand clock in the house of Peers began to strike eight of the clock, a special concession this evening to coordinate the fireworks.

-One-

"It might be a bit early, my Prince." Lord Mortimer said.

-Two-

The Salamander turned fully to face the Prince Valiant. "But God save the King."

-Three-

-Four-

The Prince nodded gravely. "God save the Kingdom of Albion, Lord Mortimer."

-Five-

And then a shout from behind drawing Montmorency's attention again.

-Six-

An Imp had just pushed his way through the gathered Manticore Knights, shouting to be heard above the ringing. A Puca was following behind him, taking advantage of the diversion to draw a wand.

-Seven-

Every Guard in sight responded as one, drawing their own weapons level on the Puca's head, ready to fire on the young man if not for the fact that he was pointing his conductors wand at the imp ahead of him. Suddenly, the words that had been masked were coming through loud and clear, and seemingly from all around them.

-Eight-

A distant whistling cry began to build in the air, the first fireworks launching on time, flaring over the rooftops and arcing, arcing . . .

"-OP HIM HE'S AN IMPOSTER!" The Imp shouted at the top of her lungs, finger pointing up, at, at . . . Lord Mortimer? The Salamander Lord glared down at his accuser with a look of utter disgust.

. . . Arcing the wrong direction.

What happened next took Montmorency a long time to figure out, and she was never quite sure if she had it right or had simply made up parts to fit as needed. It certainly made sense, though in coming years, she and Guiche would argue endlessly about the specifics.

In no particular order. There was a pause as the realization of what had just been shouted spread through the crowd, centering on the Salamander Lord .The price of the statement being brief was that it was not clear what was meant. Everything that was to follow was completed in the time it took for people at the outer edge of the crowd to begin to realize what had just been said. Prince Wales had looked to the Imp and then back to Lord Mortimer, eyes widening in realization, hand dropping to the wand at his hip.

At the same time, Lord Mortimer's left hand had straightened, a slender, matt metallic shape falling through his outstretched fingers, caught by a crucifix guard.

General Eugene seemed to have been the first to comprehend the warning, but also hesitated for a hair fraction of a second, buying the 'Imposter' a moment of time, just enough room to slip free from the grip fast closing on his shoulder. He threw himself towards the Prince, diving past a startled Countess of Windsor, straight for Prince Wales himself.

It was not a desperate dive, rather, it was entirely focused on carrying him to his target before anyone could be brought to action. 'Mortimer' should have expected it to have worked. He would have been wrong.

A flash of black, a flash of silver. One moment the dagger was reaching towards an unprepared Prince Wales, the next it was shattered, flying from the assassins hand at the point of another, longer, decidedly more graceful blade held by none other than the Lady Asuna.

She hadn't seemed to move at all. Montmorency thought later. It was as if she had moved in the space between moments, only her starting position and finishing stance had been at all visible. Everything else in between hadn't even been a blur.

The motion, its speed, its execution, didn't even stun the Imposter as he spun away, not stopping, not slowing down at all, like it had been an expected part of a dance, legs folding downwards before springing up with a second knife, intent on trying gut the Prince before he could be put down.

A soft wind traced across Montmorency's cheek, something blurring past her so fast that the only impression of movement that was left behind was the long black sash falling to the ground beside her. Pulling something from behind her back, the immense butterfly bow untying around it as she did so, Miss Midori retrieved a black shaft of metal, barely a double hand span long, twirling the shaft in her hand, it slid open, the tip of a silver blade extending, and then extending again as it teselcoped to its full length. By the time that she was in position, a heartbeat later, Midori held a forearm length sword which she used to expertly perry 'Mortimer's ' next knife strike. Second blade tumbling away, the assassin jumped back with a look of annoyance.

Rushing through the crowds, Captain Hammond of the Griffin Knights was shouting to his subordinate. "Seize him!"

Sparing only a glance to take in the surrounding Knights, the false Salamander Lord didn't give the opportunity. Turning to the balcony railing, he took a running jump, and he leaped, not taking flight but dropping to garden below among the crowds of confused guests, unsure of what was happening.

Before anyone could think a single thing of it, before the Manticore or Griffin Knights could even take aim, the whistling had been growing louder turned to a shriek that ended in an eardrum shattering -boom- and flash of light barely a fifty mails above the garden.

Montmorency was thrown to the ground, not by the blast, as the Zero's explosions went, that one was strictly average, but because Guiche had decided to play the hero, shielding her with his own body as he fumbled for his wand. It had been for the most part harmless, more dazzling than anything. But while dazzled, the Knights couldn't pursue, and couldn't attack.

In the confusion, the false Mortimer had taken the opportunity to break into a sprint, crashing towards the gates at the far end of the Garden, closing the distance far faster than any human.

"Treachery!" Stumbling back from the confusion, dazed and confused, the Lord Justice screamed. "Treachery from the Fae Lords!"

"What are you waiting for?!" The Lady Asuna took one step, and then was frozen in her tracks as a wand was held to her throat.

The focus belonged to a terrified looking Noble, one of Baron Turnow's sons, the youngest who had just been accepted into the army along with Guiche. He looked like, well, he looked like he was ready to wet himself. Trembling as he tried to keep the wand in his hand level, not at all allowing it to droop or in any way imply the impotence he had to be feeling after seeing the feats of a Fae Swordswoman.

A vicious hiss came from Montmorency's side, Midori taking a half step forward as if intent on placing herself betwee the Faerie girl and the mage. Only a small glance from the Lady Asuna and a raised hand stopped her.

"D-don't you move! F-father was right about you . . . you . . ." A hand snatched the wand from the Noble boy's grip, a disgustd Griffin Knight taking control of the situation. But the problem was, their simply weren't enough Knights to do the same for every Mage drawing a wand.

Nobody knew quite what was happening, confusion reigned as more fireworks sputtered and burst over the heads of the gathered Nobility. But the Lord Justice's shout galvanized them to action, or at least, the Nobles who could be counted among the radicals. The distaste for the Fae, normally well hidden, had just been given an unwitting avenue to burst out. They knew nothing about what was happening, only that they were being attacked and that their had been 'treachery' from the Fae, the Lord Justice's cry had told them everything they thought they needed to know.

The Faeries, all of them, found wands pointed in their direction, from _every_ direction, uncertain Nobles glancing to each other for what to do next.

"I . . ." The Captain cringed as there came another -Boom- and another eye watering flash in the skies. "Damn it! Lady Asuna, Lady Alicia, all of you, please hold still for a moment. Do not provoke them!" Grabbing his closest subordinate, the Manticore Captain shouted in the man's ear. "Get Manticores in the air and take a team on foot to get after him. He might try to use the old waterways. Do not let that imposter escape." Turning to a pair of fast approaching Griffin Knights. "Sir Bjorn, take the Princess to safety at once!"

And another -boom- accompanied by screams of fright, the firework had clipped the wall of the Palace grounds before skipping along the lawn, smashing into a fountain and bursting in a geyser of fire and steam. In the mean time, between the blossoms of fire and the confusion sewn by the overly zealous Lord Justice, the assailant had made it to the gate. Roundly driving a bone breaking fist into the face of a Musketeer running from the walls to see what was happening, he tumbled through the rest of the confused squad, moving with inhuman speed, grabbing hold of the iron bars simply vaulting over as the first shots of flame and wind grazed him.

More sounds of battle echoed from beyond as the Mages and musketeers on the perimeter received word of what was happening and spun into action.

"Miss Midori!" The Princess shouted. "Go with Captain Hammond's men, don't let the imposter escape!"

The Swordswoman was frozen for a second, looking first to the Lady Asuna and the back to the Princess. "But . . ."

The Princess who had laughed and joked with them earlier had vanished now. Her next words carried the weight of Royal Authority. "That is an order. Remember that we have our own plans. I'll be perfectly safe."

"Go!" The Lady Asuna mouthed.

A heartbeat, a hesitant nod, and then Midori was chasing after the fast moving Manticore Knights. If Montmorency hadn't seen it for herself, she would have never imagined that a person could move so quickly without the use of some form of charm. Flinging her shoes aside, sword slashing downward to hack at her skirts until what was left of her gown could barely be called a dress, but it freed her to move, breaking into a sprint and still gaining ground on the Knights that had launched into pursuit ahead of her.

More -booms-, blossoms of light flashed before Monmon's eyes as chaos reigned all around. Shouts and screams of frightened Nobles. The next wave of fireworks were met be wind magic, not even proper shields, simply cantrips meant to bat them back up into the sky before bursting. A Knight grabbed Montmorency by the shoulder, pulling her towards the nominal safety of the Palace. It was a moment before she realized that Guiche wasn't with her. "Guiche!"

Quite the opposite, the youngest Gramont brother was currently being dragged along by his collar by the eldest. "Come on then Lads. Can't let a little gel have all the fun of killing a snake! For Queen and country."

"Don't fear my Monmon!" Guiche shouted at the top of his lungs. "I do assure you, we'll be back in short order!" And then, Guiche was streaking away, still carried by his brother who was fast accelerating under the influence of a featherweight charm."

To her left, General Gramont was furiously barking orders at any military man he could find, Prince Wales bellowing for order, to her right Captain Hammond was demanding the frightened Nobles stand down before they hurt someone, or, judging by looks in the eyes of the Lady Asuna and General Eugene, somebody hurt them.

Completely surrounded by people, and yet perfectly alone, isolated, by confusion and chaos. Montmorency was at last pulled inside, where the noise was perhaps even worse, now confined as it was.

How had her dream turned into a nightmare?


	32. Good Game

Halkegenia Online - Chapter 10 - Part 5

Darkness beneath the canopy, the rustling of trees, the distant animal calls of the forest. Then silence, like the whole world was holding its breath in anticipation. It wasn't a long wait. A spark of light in the depths of the abyss as steel caught on the moonlight, a spark, a single sharp -ring- as blades met barely off edge. And then darkness again, but no longer silence.

Recoiling from her deflected strike, Morgiana hit the ground skidding across the damp earth and underbrush, digging her boot heels in to killher forward momentum while looking to the sky all the while.

Raising her hand to chest level, fingesr outstretched, a shortly breathed enchantment summoned a cloud of runes which promptly faded. Morgiana cursed, he'd managed to spot and hit her last searching tracer.

'Where is he?' Morgiana thought, eyes flashing left and right. 'Where did he go?' But all she was met with was the blurred columns of trees and bushes, the rare beam of moonlight. Had he cast Dark Flight? Dangerous in a situation like this, it would slow his speed to a crawl in exchange for hiding the glow and hum of his wings. If he was caught, he wouldn't be able to dispel it before she was on top of him.

Then, a shadow, one among many, moved, it took flight with a faint black light glow. There! It was time to end this game of cat and mouse! Dashing back into the air, Morgiana was after him again, a wraith chasing an assassin through the trees, wings singing his requiem.

Jack wouldn't dare rise above the tree tops, not while he knew there was someone on his tail. He'd much prefer the shadows and hiding places offered by the forest floor. Crawling around in the dirt just to make a few cheap shots and get away.

Between the two of them, Morgiana knew she was the more skilled and previously higher leveled. Jack was an ambush specialist above everything else, with a lot of dirty tricks to even the playing field if he got caught. All things considered, she wouldn't have expected him to handle this sort of speed so easily, not when death was on the line.

She'd expected wrong. He ducked and weaved, rolling and spinning through the air without regards for up and down. How he was even keeping his barrings was beyond her. It was suicidal. Was that it? Was he some sort of adrenaline junky just in this for the thrill? Like hell she was going to be outrun by some murderous thrill seeker. Wings almost flush with her back, Morgiana took on a near horizontal skydive through the trees.

Whatever else his crazy flight path was doing, it was making him exceedingly hard to hit. All she needed was a clear shot, she whispered a chant under her breath, splaying the fingers of her free hand. Spoken so lowly, the full spell effects were faded and hard to make out, barely discernible bove the ambient glow of her wings. The trade off was that the already weak spell was going to be even more anemic, a lot like throwing a spitball.

Ahead of her, Jack caught sight in his chaotic midair tumble and let out a cackling laugh. He shouted loud and clear. "See! Isn't this fun _Morgi_-chan? We should do this more often!"

Whatever the hell he was on about, she could beat it from him after he was taken out of the sky. She saw her chance, a curtain of moonlight just ahead of jack, they were about to hit a break in the trees. Thrusting her open hand forward, Morgiana released the ball of magic, a pale shell of white light surrounding utter blackness. The none elemental homing attack Magic Missile.

Robbed of most of its magical potential by her near silent chant, the seeking spell nonetheless covered the distance between the two of them almost instantly, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Jack suddenly stopped dead in midair, extending his own hand, releasing the spell he'd been storing up. The magic shell burst like glass with an explosion of light, sound, and concussive force that reverberated right down to Morgiana's teeth and sent Rip Jack careening backwards.

But not nearly as fast as she would have expected, smoke billowing behind him, she could just make out the dissolving particle effects of a spent False Shield conjured at the last second.

Rip Jack had his opening, she was running right at him far too fast to fully stop. Her wings felt like they were going to be wrenched from her back, balking at the demands she was placing on them as she through her construct limbs wide. Jack was waiting for her, already winding up. Shouting more out of frustration than fear or anger, bringing her spear over her head and swinging down to catch Jack's sword on with its shaft.

Jack's swordsmanship was passable, although closer to a knife technique, that made him dangerous up close like this, inside the Reach of Morgiana's own spear which was better for keeping things at arms length. Not much good once they were inside that reach however.

A midair dance ensued as Morgiana grabbed her knife from its sheath, catching Jack's short sword at the hilt, partially blocking, but still not enough to stop a fine graze across her upper arm. So close, Morgiana could see Jack's smile even in the dark, and the half glazed expression in his eyes. There was no way she was going to be killed by someone like that. It would be a disgrace.

Twisting, wings maneuvering more by instinct, she slipped around the Assassin's guard, arms and legs splayed wide as she wound up and then tucked in, gathering speed to a spinning kick aimed at the fallen Spriggan's head. She missed, barely, boot streaking mud across his cheek.

They parted ways as soon as it had started, breaking away to regain their balance and direction just as Jack shouted out, another chant, bursting into light. Morgiana razed her hand to shield her eyes, risking the chance of a surprise attack as she tried to track Rip Jack's escape. When the light finally faded, it was like she was along again in the forest.

"Shit." Morgiana panted under breath, head turning to and fro. All they needed to do was put him in drag and he'd be stealing her title.

"Botan?" The Lady of the Spriggans asked the Pixie poking her head nauseously from a pouch on her belt. The girl wasn't in any sort of shape to be involved in this fight, her size not withdstanding, but she'd refused to let go from the moment she'd stumbled back into camp, bloodied, beaten, and brandishing her sword and a hawk's feather like battle trophies.

It had been her warning that had tipped them off. To the fact that the Conspirators were on the move. To the fact that their Tristanian allies had botched their oh so brilliant plan to keep the manor cordoned. Once Morgiana had put the pieces together from the Pixie's incoherent and dazed rambling, the Faeries and the Mage Knights of the Royal Guard had hit the manor like hammer. Like they should have done all along.

Too bad the handful of conspirators left inside hadn't let themselves be taken alive.

Mimicking Morgiana's own look around, eyes closed as she inhaled deeply, Botan shook her head. "I don't know!" The Vespid Knight cried out in frustration. "I can't _smell_ him."

Morgiana gave a soft 'tcht'. That nose had come in handy just getting them this far, finding their way through the tunnels beneath de'Martou's manor and then in the Corridor beneath that. It had gotten them close, close enough to figure out what was happening and send a call to the Capital that they could only hope was in time, close enough to step in to save Mort's butt. But racing through the forest at this speed was a bit beyond even a Pixie's blood hound senses.

Morgiana took a breath, calming herself, her blood had been on a boil for far too long, and if she wasn't careful, she knew it was going to make her sloppy. Like it had at York after losing one of her guild mates, one of her _kids_. No, she couldn't keep letting it rial her up. Calm, she needed to keep her head about this. Especially now, she looked over her shoulder at the void.

As much as she'd been hoping to end this personally, she hadn't planned it this way and wouldn't have minded some backup now. After her dramatic arrival and inspiring declaration, the fighting had broken out again immediately. Of course, it hadn't been like a manga where there was a still moment of silence after her totally badass one liner. Instead, that had been the cue to _start_ the furball.

Desperate mages throwing fire, some of it actual fire, up into the air at the bobbing and weaving squadron of descending Faeries. Clouds of return fire, attack spells, debuffs, and binds. It hadn't been elegant, Morgiana wasn't the elegant type when it came to strategy, and had gone in with a pretty open ended battle plan that could be summed up as surround, infiltrate, and pummel into submission most of all, keep the surviving assassins the hell away from the downed Salamander Lord and his guards.

The Faeries had the advantage of power and the high ground against the grounded mages, and confusion and the initiative was on their side. Even better, they'd gotten a bit of extra support from the petite little air mage that had been tagging along and her dragon. They knew that allied reinforcements were hot on their heels and that they just needed to keep the pressure on until they could catch up. Meanwhile the poor saps they were fighting against had already had their morale crushed by the arrival of the Faerie reinforcements, and Morgiana had dropped just enough to make them start thinking that their plan was falling apart.

Like hell if it actually was, for all Morgiana knew, it was her side who was losing the war even as they won the battle, but it had worked. The mages weren't fighting so good now, demotivated, falling into doubt and despair.

It had become abundantly clear very quickly that, save for a few, these guys weren't of the highest quality. Cannon fodder sent to fill up the ranks, cover ground, and act as meat shields while the real elites had gotten into position. To must of those poor saps, the Faerie dropping on their heads must have seemed invincible in the first moments.

Spells shattered against Faeire magic shields and barriers, or worse, were reflected back at their casters in an epic Return to Sender as Mortimer joined with the Imp and Cait Syth Darkness casters to protect the Fae and wind dragon in the skies.

Then, the Mages had started to die in earnest. Frozen in place by Undine and wind mage ice spells, or incinerated by Salamander fire magic. Morgiana and her Spriggans had sewn confusion like only real Kurotakas could, braving the ground and their own sides fire, dropping Nightmare spells to fill the forest with ethereal false mobs and using Shadow Holograms to transform the outward appearance of the Mages into grounded Fae, turning them against each other.

The ones that broke, trying to run for their lives, had been hounded by Sylphs, either brought down with binds, or shredded with wind spells if they continued to resist.

If their allies didn't show up soon, there wouldn't be much of a fight left for them to join, Morgiana had thought. The assassins had dropped like flies until only a few stubborn hold outs or fleeing stragglers were left. That was, with the exception of Rip Jack.

Typical Ganker MO, the second things had started to go south, the Spriggan had decided to cut his losses and run. Or maybe he thought Morgiana would go after him and give him a fight with his former Lord. He'd seemed absurdly happy to see her. Whatever else was going through his twisted head, he'd been right about that. It was just, she hadn't meant for that fight to be fair.

When she'd seen him run, Morgiana had only spared a glance to the battle raging all around her. Mortimer had gotten safely back into the air and had taken control of the squads she'd brought with her. At that point, her leadership roll had become entirely secondary to her abilities as an illusion master and the desperate need to chase down Jack before he could escape into the bush.

By now, the fighting had spread across a lot more of the forest, isolated pockets of the fleeing ambush force getting run down and caught up in skirmishes. A few actually turning to make their last stand, as if dying pointlessly for the cause was something that would make their deaths meaningful. Jack had punched right through the fighting, exchanging close range flurries of melee attacks and spell fire with Morgiana and her kids. Very nearly knocking a startled Cait from the Sky, Jack had caught a sylph skirmisher by the throat as the wind Faerie dropped through the canopy and literally hurled the stunned woman into Morgiana's path. She'd dodged to the side, but she hadn't been able to spare any time to worry about the woman's condition. Jack counted a lot more at that moment.

He'd known what he was doing, a Ganker, and an expert with his wings, the Spriggan assassin had shot through the forest without regard for his own safety, kicking off of trees and dodging branches in tumbling flight that made him difficult to track and almost impossible to hit. That was, when he wasn't branching off Shadow Clones in ever direction, dropping behind them with Substitutions, or just hurling illusory mobs, flash, and smoke bursts to distract them.

From time to time, Jack had broken from this pattern, dropping back to deliver a fast feint or a potentially lethal attack. Worse, it had been seemingly at random, with no regard for whether the environs made it a good idea or not.

They had to remain constantly on the guard for his tricks. It had taken everything Morgiana had just to keep up and stay one step ahead of the illusions and ambushes, trading sword strikes and magic tricks at the drop of the hat. Twice, Jack had been convinced that he had her, throwing picks shattering a mirror spell as she hid on the opposite branch, a lethal sword strike getting the drop on one of her own poor shadow clones. This was Jack's element, using his illusions to infiltrate and escape, so they were about evenly matched in terms of the magical abilities they could bring to the table, while Morgiana was pretty sure she could annihilate him if she could just turn the fight into a protracted Melee.

It was all going to come down to how much flight time they had left, whose wings would tire first.

The fighting around them had thinned out, the sounds of battle becoming distant, indistinct, and then being lost in the woods, even to her enhanced hearing. Shime and Name-chan had been right behind her, but she hadn't seem them for a while now, lost someplace during the pursuit, unable to keep up. Or at least, she hoped they were simply lost.

If they were missing because of Jack, Morgiana grit her teeth, she'd skin him alive.

The forest was still dead silent, the night creature sounds not willing to start up again until they knew it was over. It made listening easy, eyes carefully closed as she concentrated. One ear perked as she tried to make sense of the night. "No sound". Morgiana whispered more for her own benefit than Botans'. There should have been a faint, almost musical hum of Faerie wings if Jack was still airborne. And no lights either. He'd probably used the flash to hit the dirt. Morgiana gave her own wings a glance, their feeble glow told her that she didn't have much flight time left herself.

So the question was, stay put and risk him sneaking away on his belly in the mud, or hoof it and be in danger of getting turned around in the dark.

Or, there was plan C. Not that she really liked plan C, it ate up a hell of a lot of magic and she'd already burned through her mana potions throwing the big stuff against the mages and during the pursuit.

"Def glaoch Clón il fíor count . . ." Morgiana invoked " . . . ceithre fíor uathoibríoch fíor . . ." Somewhere out there, Rip Jack was on the move, dashing in out of the shadows or just staying put while his wings recharged. Now was her chance to run him to ground . . . "Leagtha fear spear drugadóirí iompar reáchtáil!"

Morgiana tried to ignore the chill that ran down her spine as the same black smoke that appeared when creating any sort of illusion construct began to roil up from the ground. In ALfheim it had just been an effect to hide the game spawning the requested object or NPC, but here, it had become something much more integral to the magic that was being performed, and she could never shake the feeling that she was controlling forces she didn't understand.

Settling, collecting, taking shape and definite from. Dark, oily black skulls reflecting the moonlight, toothy black smiles, bones of arms and leg, pelvis, vertebrate articulating, bent backs, smoke pooring down over them like a shroud that became sinew, and then nerves and muscle, sot pale flesh, building them up layer by layer within the inky blackness until the last poured down around four kneeling duplicates of Morgiana herself.

Botan shivered as she looked out on the quartet.

'Looking good girls.' Morgiana thought as her doppelganger Shadow Clones stood up one by one, each taking on an inquisitive expression as their simple little minds booted up their Aware behavior pattern.

Of course, they weren't even half the woman she was, their physical abilities being basically those of a re-skinned barbarian spear man mob, and dumb as a sack of rocks too. Maybe because they weren't really alive and just shadow constructs like Gnome Golems or Searching Tracers. For whatever reason, they could move around and fight in the air and on foot, obey very simple instructions, and even parse some very basic yes or no questions. But all told, they were utterly devoid of actual intelligence, which combined with their rapidly diminishing life span for each additional clone, made them not much worth using in a real fight. Mostly, they'd been relegated to lifelike decoys and diversions. And this little trick.

Beginning to chant once more, searching Tracers were actually a pretty basic spell for Spriggans and their racial affinities tended to give the resulting construct a bit more oomph with its stealth detection ability. Pointing to each clone in turn, her duplicates were quickly joined by a single black raven apiece.

Morgiana frowned, the Raven's honestly looked smarter. If she kept using these things she was going to get a bad rep. Never the less, she carried through with the rest of her preparations, the next chant gathering into a point of light at the tip of her left index and middle finger, she ran it over her eye, seeing the rune's surround the edge of her vision and then morph into a pair of concentric, golden rings, the vision enhancement spell True Sight. The world became overlaid in a tracery of outlines, making clear the things she had to strain to see in the shadows.

Finally, holding her hand out and completing one last tracer chant, she called up the visual feeds from the ravens, for little boxes appearing in the corner of her left eye, giving her a feed on what her minions were seeing.

"Alright girls", Morgiana whispered, "Let's go hunting. Spread out."

The clones gave a small, simultaneous nod, wings emerging and spreading to take off in a slow hover as they scattered in every direction. It was a lot more magic intensive then other stealth and illusion detection techniques, and you needed to be able to multitask to pull it off, but this combo did have the advantage of covering a lot of ground fast, and being quite effective at flushing a target from wherever they were hiding.

Morgiana followed after her decoys at a leisurely pace, they couldn't stray too far from her or the connection would be broken and they'd be dispelled, but in the meantime they cast a reasonably wide web around her.

"Still no sign?" Botan whispered.

"No, nothing . . ." Morgiana trailed off as she noticed something at her feet.

"Of course you would know that spell." Morgiana whispered to herself. After all, the Spriggan Territory bordered that of the Undines where mists were common.

"Oh, I'm sure you could cast Crypt Fog too if you wanted." The voice echoed off the trees, down from the sky, even up from the earth. "Lovely, isn't it Morgi-chan?! Makes the forest all spooky!"

A rustling behind her, but she didn't glance, an ear twitched, too small to be a human or a Faerie. An animal, or a distraction.

"No thanks." The Lady of the Spriggan's called out. "Something like that would pin me down too much. But I bet it's great for laying a trap in the right weather. You use it to throw up some evening fog before killing Alicia and Sakuya-chan's people? So why don't you come out and find me. I'm not hiding, you know exactly where I am."

Or he should. That spell Crypt Fog, a bit worse than a normal smoke screen. Jack wouldn't just be able to see through it, he'd be able to see_ through_ it. So long as he stayed still, at it's center, he was like a spider in its web. Now to just find where that center was.

"Hey you!" Morgiana directed her call to one of her clones crouched on a nearby tree branch. "Fly straight up." She didn't bother elaborating, the clone wouldn't understand anyways.

Jack's hollow voiced chuckled in the night. "Oh, I didn't need anything like this to deal with rank amateurs."

'Don't let him piss you off.' Morgiana thought to herself.

Spreading her wings Morgi-two drifted upward into the cloudy night sky, her attached searching tracer following close behind to give Morgiana a birds eye view. By now, the mist had crept out slowly through this portion of the Forest, an area maybe two hundred and fifty to three hundred meters in diameter. And someplace near its middle, Jack was hiding.

"A paralysis potion, a couple of throwing picks. Not really a big deal. Why, it was practically a public service. Those two were about to get up to some fun on the beach and that's a clear violation of the ethics code." An indignant snort. "Couldn't have them spoiling the best kept secret, huh?"

Not a big deal? "Not a big deal!" Morgiana screamed at the top of her lungs. "What the hell is your malfunction you lunatic! The only thing holding us back from the brink is sticking together, and you're trying to push us over the edge!"

The clone drifted closer to the center, tugged along by the attached Searching tracer picking up on some activity. She blinked as a glow built up near the center of the mist, growing and growing until she could see it even from the ground, a diffused light spreading through the forest. Seeing the spell activity, the clone-tracer combo descended closer to investigate. Somehow, Morgiana just knew she needed to take cover, sinking down behind the biggest, solidest chunk earth she could find.

"My, I didn't expect you to feel so strongly about Alicia and Sakuya-chan's problems, Morgi-chan. Aren't you the one who always says Spriggan's live for one Yurudo and die for one Yurudo? I'd thought you'd be happy that I'd adopted your philosophy."

Confusion, unspeakable rage. "My philosophy?!"

And then, a sound that wasn't quite a boom or any sort of explosion really, but rather, the noise of something passing through the air incredibly fast. The feed from her airborne clone and tracer cut out, but clone three's tracer gave her a view of two's demise, a cloud of dissipating black smoke and a pair of Faerie wings slowly tumbling and breaking apart as they fell from the sky.

"Ah, ah, ah! Morgi-chan, no cheating at our game!"

So he had a single target long range sniping spell too. Made sense if he couldn't get close to the target. Probably something high impact in the water or darkness magic trees like Brittle Bullet or Darkness Bullet. Just great. But long to chant and he'd just blown it pointlessly on one of her decoys. That just meant he was going to have to go airborne and close to the distance when he revealed himself again. 'Should have enough flight time for that.' Meanwhile, keep him talking.

In the meantime, if he was so happy to take pot shots, she'd just oblige. "Move forward." She called, pointing towards the center of the fog. Sending her xerox copies to their doom without batting an eye. They went willingly.

"It is your philosophy, isn't it? To do as we please in this world? Whatever brings us happiness. I have to thank you Morgi-chan for throwing me out of Spriggan territory. If you hadn't, I wouldn't have learned the pleasures of a _challenging_ kill. Isn't that what it's all about, tough fights instead of just killing helpless Noobs? Its _so_ empowering, isn't it?"

Morgiana felt her pulse surge, her stomach dropping out from the rest of her insides. She decided right then, this was no longer about bringing Jack in. Until that moment, she would have subdued him if possible, killed him if necessary. Now though . . .

"There's nothing left inside you worth saving, is there?" Fine then, if he claimed he was inspired by her, that he was somehow her fault, she'd carry that weight, she'd clean up her mess. "As far as I'm concerned Jack, you're not even an assassin, just a damn murderer."

One of her clones had paused, switching from Search to Detection behavior. Raising its spear in a cautious advance towards something that might be, no, _was_ the right size, moving and shifting about like it was trying to keep from fidgeting.

Another wild chuckle as her clones creapt further forward, they were approaching the center now. "Harsh name to call a Ganker isn't it? I mean, 'that bastard' or 'goddamn trash of the net', but murderer?! I think you're vastly exagerating the severity, wouldn't you? Lighten up Morgi-chan . . . it's all just a game."

Sinking into an attack stance Morgi-four drove her spear forward, through the mist, right at the profile, and right through the chest of . . . of . . . -boom- . . . and now Morgi-four had ended her existence the way she'd started it, in a cloud of magic smoke. It wasn't for a long time after the thunder had faded that Morgiana was able to do anything else. She hadn't even heard the explosion, not really, it had registered but . . . but . . .

"You fricking psycho. This is not some sort of game. The real lives you're taking, the real lives you're going to take, they aren't just ones and zeroes anymore. This isn't a world made for your fun!" Then she roared. "What the hell sort of monster are you?!"

It was very long time before she got her answer, so long that she started to wonder if Jack hadn't been standing a little too close to his own bomb. And then a disapproving clucking noise. "Morgi-chan, Morgi-chan, calling _me_ crazy. But who'd have though the Spriggans were run by a delusional LARPer? You always seemed so laid back too. Maybe you should see a therapist."

"Even for you Jack, this isn't _funny_!" Morgiana shouted the last word, striking the ground hard enough to send pain shooting through her fist.

"Oh, I'm quite serious. Maybe some trauma? RL eating away at you? I mean, it's not like any of us have this sort of _facility _IRL so I understand the liberating experience . . ." He trailed off speculatively, almost conversationally.

There was no way he was thinking this. Morgiana wanted to let out a hysterical laugh. There was no way. She covered her eyes with her free hand, trying not to let it out. No way, that this was the cause of it all. She didn't believe it.

"Morgiana-sama?" Botan fluttered up, grabbing hold of her, tugging at her ear as if tying to make her stop, somehow, some way.

"Really? IRL?" Morgiana shouted out loud and clear. "You can't be that stupid Jack, this world, this world is as _real_ as it gets. I refuse to believe you haven't figured that out after eight damn _weeks_! Haven't you given it some thought? Havent you had to eat? Hell, haven't you taken a _shit?_!"

Botan slammed hands over her ears, funny, cause Morgiana hadn't been yelling the last part.

"And what? That means that this must be . . . _real_? Morgiana-chan, please. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? Not just that we could have been taken to another world, but that all of this could have been made real from . . . what? Computer files and art assets?"

Yeah, she did as a matter of fact. It had kept her awake, starring at her ceiling a lot of nights, that didn't mean she was going to admit it.

"Okay, then you explain this?" Just keep talking, talking long enough to . . . to . . . she didn't know anymore. Wasn't sure anymore.

"A system update, some new technique?" Jack went on, it was like they were sitting around a coffee table enjoying some chit chat. "Haven't noticed that last one though." He laughed. "Must be for hardcore players to remind them to log out, huh? I just log off . . ."

Morgiana glanced up into the corner of her vision again, the two remaining feeds. They were pretty much right on top of where he had to be. And as long as he didn't stop chatting he couldn't start casting.

"What about pain? You have to have cut yourself, stubbed your toe, _something_!"

"Hmm . . . Well, I did take a fall and cut myself with a knife a few days ago. Clumsy me! But that was IRL while I was making dinner. If you're experiencing pain in a dive game, maybe you should see a doctor. Prior to the SAO incident, I remember several articles by Kayaba Akihiko suggesting methods to hack the brains perceptions within a full dive and how this might be done unintentionally. A sort of work around for hardware and software limitations, trick the brain to fill in the blanks. I'm planning to do my thesis on it as a matter of . . . oh dear, I've said too much! Time to finish this!"

The chanting runes filled the air at point blank range, right in her clone's faces. Now was her chance. "Hang on Inch High Samura." Morgiana told Botan, leaping from cover in a blur of wings, threading through the treas as they emerged from the mist. As a last precaution, she chanted out a back up eveasion spell something to use just in case, holding it ready for immediate use.

It all came down to a race now, whether Rip would finish his lengthy, somewhat unfamiliar chant, or she'd make it first.

"Gng. Watch out!" Botan cried, clinging to her shoulder as they punched through the last of the mist and into the small open space at the center of Jack's trap spell. Morgiana had been wrong. Jack wasn't chanting another long range spell, the chant had started the same, but it ended differently, it was shorter.

Rising from a crouch, a fist full of swirling chaos gathering in one hand, not quite ready, but too close!

Morgiana completed the casting gesture for her stored spell, Spriggan transformation magic, the illusion spell Dusk Murder that she had used before in York, transforming herself into one crow among a flock of short lived and very aggressive mobs. That was what was supposed to happen. It didn't.

A series of blood red runes flashed before her eyes. What?!

Jack wasn't ready, but he wasn't sympathetic either,as she careened towards him and then suddenly exploded sideways as a pommel strike connected with her temple, flinging her to the ground in a stunned heap. What had happened? Her spell?! She rolled over, out of the way of a hasty downward stab, jumping backwards, partly airborne as her two remaining doubles crashed in behind her.

Morgis one and three obeying what ever passed for intelligence inside of their magically assembled skulls went straight on the offensive with predictable results. Motions unusually slow and clumsy compared to the genuine article, their attack patterns highly was a reason they were only really useful as distractions, decoys, and anchors for searching tracers.

Jack didn't have any trouble dodging the first two rushing spear thrusts, even without taking to the sky. Sidestepping around Morgi-One he ducked an overhead spear swing and then completed his spell, a blast of all consuming roiling black and white bursting from his hand at point blank range, utterly erasing the Shadow Clone from the navel up. The remains stood for a moment, then collapsed to the ground, already dissolving into smoke.

That left only Morgi-three and the real deal.

Recovering from the blow to the head slowly, by the time Jack was done disposing of the last Clone, a sword through her fast dissolving chest, Morgiana had managed to get her feet back under her, cursing her bad luck. When was the last time she'd miscast? And shouldn't she have been alerted to the failure before readying the spell?

But there was no time to figure that out as Jack dove in, spinning, dancing with his blade. Laughing like a child. Like it really was all a game.

And maybe that was why Morgiana was finally afraid. She'd given some thought to dying, being killed, since arriving in this world. Dying fighting someone who you were trying to kill right back wasn't really so terrifying. You knew where you stood and that both of you understood that one of you probably wouldn't be walking away alive. That was okay. But what she saw in Jack's eyes at that moment. She understood why he frightened Botan.

"Tch!" Morgiana hissed as, in the shower of slashes, one finally connected home with her shoulder, and then another along her forearm and cheek. She started really hoping Jack hadn't had the resources to poison his blade. Either way, her own screw up had gotten her here, overconfident, stupid!

There was a respite, and Morgiana didn't know why. She stumbled back, blinking fast, trying to figure out what just had happened. Jack was holding up his sword hand, examining it with glazed eyes, the tiny silver needle that had been buried into his thumb. Plucking it away, watching the blood trickle down. Botan hovered in the air, out of arms reach, trembling as if she'd just made a grave mistake. And then the mask was back up, the smug, confident smile, all the more terrifying for being worn over eyes that held no hint of real awareness anymore.

She needed space, she needed footing. Now that he had moved, Jack's spell was breaking down, dissipating. Jumping back with her wings, taking to the mists. If he moved, it meant he'd lost his connection to the spell, he wouldn't be able to sense her through the mist anymore.

She saw the mist darken beneath her, Jack chasing her straight up, she burst through the top of the fog bank and into the stormy skies, Jack right on her heels. Spear spinning freely over her shoulders, thrusting down at the climbing assassin.

'_No!' _The back of her mind called out. Left cheek, his face was clean!

Turning, pulling her knife from its scabbard, Jack's clone wasn't any smarter than her's had been, a thrown knife planting itself between his eyes dropping from sky in a long trail of his own dissolution as she completed her turn upward, bracing her hands against the shaft of her spear.

The impact nearly tore the weapon from her hands.

Morgiana looked up, blinking in disbelief, Jack seemed surprised too, hands dropping his sword out of the sky, falling onto the shaft of the spear that had just entered his abdomen beneath his ribcage. His eyes widened, growing clear for the first time. Afraid.

Slowly. Letting her fingers slip along the shaft, Morgiana grabbed hold of the stunned Spriggan, descending to the earth, weighed down by his limp body. He was still alive when they touched down. Voice weak and hollow. He seemed almost bemused.

". . . It's impossible right . . ." He coughed, struggling to breath as she held him up. Not because she wouldn't save him, but because she couldn't. She didn't have a potion or spell that would stave off death from this. All she could do was let him wind down like a clock. " . . . No matter how fan . . . fan . . ." He stopped, gathering the words, " . . . fantastic. Our senses always de – deceive us . . . Always . . . truth is in the mind . . . self . . ."

"The . . . the Spartan and the Norseman . . . they both . . . both told me I'm right." In the dark, she felt the heat of his life soaking over her hands but he didn't stop. Leaning against her for support as his legs gave out and his strength failed. "This world can't be real . . . or . . . _I_'d _regret_ . . . regret what I've done . . . every . . . Gank is proof . . . right?" He found the strength to look her in the ees one last time, pleading from the depths of his soul. "Tell . . . tell . . . me . . ." He paused on the edge.

Morgiana leaned closer to him, until her lips rested beside his ear. "Yeah, you're right . . . It's all just a game. GG."

The body in her arms relaxed slowly, a last sigh escaping his lungs. "GG . . . Morgiana . . ."

Setting the body down, slowly, so _slowly._ Morgiana sank to her knees and then leaned back against the nearest tree, breathing slowly as the clouds on high opened up at last. It didn't start slowly, the floodgates just opened, hissing and dripping through the branches over head until it started to drip down on Morgiana.

A leaf came running towards her across the ground, Botan beneath it as an umbrella, carrying her retrieved needle sword.

Reaching a hand out for the Knight, Morgiana picked the girl up and deposited her on her shoulder.

"Is he?" Botan asked.

"Yeah." Morgiana nodded slowly. Yeah he was. She'd gotten him, scratched her itch. But still.

It was a while later that Shime and Name-chan finally caught up with them. The dissipating mist cloud had finally given them something to spot from on high and they'd touched down with an Undine medic and squad of Sylphs in tow.

The Sylphs had all the news. The assassins had been routed. Mortimer was safe. They'd detained a handful of prisoners for interrogation, the rest had been killed or suicided to prevent capture. Or maybe to avoid going back to report a mission failuire.

"Mort wants you back ASAP, we're having a hell of a time getting anything through to the Capital. Everyone's gotta be moving around too much for us to get a lock."

"Right, right." Morgiana stood up slowly, ignoring the Undine who had been seeing to her cuts and bruises. Carefully, Morgiana chanted a simple utility spell, a tiny orb of light appeared a few centimeters above the palm of her hand and then vanished as she snapped her fingers shut.

"What is it?" Name-chan asked, leaning against her own spear. Standing in the rain like it was the least bothersome thing in the world, the girl had a very 'Big Sister' vibe going on herself, something Morgiana rather liked about her. It was part of why she'd let her sign on as one of their first post Dunkirk recruits.

The other part was wanting to be loyal to her friends. 'I want to protect the lives we were all given back . . .' Wasn't that what she'd said when Morgiana had asked why she was willing to fight and maybe even die?

"It's nothing, Nori-chan." Morgiana shook her head.

"Nori-chan?" The girl quirked an eyebrow. "Not _Name_-chan?"

"Gotta keep the name clear for the next wave of recruits." Morgiana offered. "Anyways, it sounds like you earned it today."

She looked like she wanted to say more, but instead she just smiled. "Thanks Big Sis. Maybe now Yuuki and Shiune will stop teasing me about it." She rubbed at the back of her head, smile turning to a frown as she look back to the body of Rip Jack. "What about him? Leave him here or . . ."

"I'm sure that Gothic Lolita wouldn't mind being able to dissect him." Shime said darkly. "You know . . . for science."

"No." Morgiana said flatly, drawing everyone attention. "No . . . Nothing like that for right now."

The two other Kurotaka's exchanged worried looks. "Uhm . . . Morgi- . . . " Shime started.

"It's okay." She assured, closing her eyes as she tilted her head up into the rain. How best to say it after seeing the relief in his eyes. "Big Sis . . . took away the pain."

* * *

Authors Note: Normally I wouldn't do this since it seems extremely petty to respond to only a single person and to do so publicly.

Khellendros, it is considered courteous if you're going to ask a question, especially if you are are going to ask that question in such a needlessly insulting fashion, to offer some way for the respondent to contact you privately instead of making a public statement that leaves no recourse.

To answer your question, I do run my work through a spell checker, a marvelous bit of software that does absolutely nothing to detect correctly spelled words in the wrong order, or correct words that are being misused such a homophones. I do attempt to read over material before posting it here, but frankly if you think six thousands words can be read and edited quickly and easily you are either highly atypical and should long ago have learned to have patience for a normal person's failings, or you have no idea how long editing and spell checking your own work actually takes.

What's_ wrong_ with me as you so politely put it is that I have a very limited ammount of time to dedicate to this and don't want to squander time when I'm feeling inspired to write on tedious editing.

I do understand that this sounds more than a little entitled, but then again, I am also posting this for nothing, receive nothing for it but my own enjoyment, and do make an attempt to maintain proper grammar even if my fat fingers do cause mistakes from time to time. (You cannot imagine how many times I have to delete a w from the end of a 'No').

If you're going to make such a comment publicly, after admitting that you're aware of the problem. Then you should put your money where your mouth is and suggest a, or offer to, beta read. The last three readers I tried were dropped because it was taking them more than a week to get back to me. (We'd still be back chapter six of part 1)

-takes breath- Okay, sorry for that rant and again I hope not to have come off too harsh. I appreciate the fact that it irritates you and it irritates me too, but your comment extremely irksome to me.

To the rest of you, thanks for your time and sorry for this.


	33. Bursting Heart

Tried to take everyones advice and spell check this one. Going to try and get the next part out for spellchecking to someone tonight. Please leave your reviews, should be plenty to comment about.

* * *

Halkegenia Online v2.0 - Chapter 10 - Part 6

Despite what KoKo had asked of her, despite trying her best, Louise gave in to her fear.

Curling up, eyes squeezed shut, hands firmly over her ears. She didn't want to see, to think. Most of all, she didn't want to _hear_. Hear the screams, first of fear, then of blood curdling agony as razor claws and crushing jaws tore a grown man limb from limb. But it didn't make any difference how hard she tried, she could still make out the sounds. For such a sudden death, the Mage had lingered on for a long, _long_ time.

It had to end though, and at last it did, the final, feeble cries bouncing off into the night sky until Louise was left alone with only her thoughts and the fresh, bloody memory echoing within her skull, the images playing behind her eyes. Only then did she hear the other noises, soft and low, the padding of wide, heavy paws, a steady rumbling purr getting closer and closer. The smell of hot breath brushing against her cheek.

"Ngn." She cringed away. Eyes shut tight, Louise fell back, whimpering as a weight barred down, first on her shoulder, and then on her chest. She felt something pressing firmly against her face and neck, the rumbling almost beside her ear. And then . . .

The feeling was rough, wet, and hot, spreading across her cheek from chin to temple, leaving behind sticky residue and an odor like raw fish, so surprising it almost made her gag. But before she could, it came again, and then again.

"Ptt, pwh, pht . . ." Louise spluttered, squirming beneath the weight, hands reaching out to push it away. Louise lost her patience. "Stop that!"

Even more surprising, it stopped as suddenly as it had started. The weight receded from her chest until she was left spread eagle on the ground . . . She had been obeyed. That alone was almost enough to make her open her eyes. And then a soft tinkling, like chimes, entered her consciousness and she couldn't look away any longer.

'It's okay.' Louise told herself. It was going to be okay. She was going to open her eyes now. Just one more second, just one more . . . A small crack, enough to make out the blurred shape standing before her. Then a little bit wider, a little bit more. Louise stopped, her breath caught. Everything else, the mission, the danger, all of it, was briefly forgotten.

Since she had been a small girl, from the time she was old enough to understand, Louise had _longed_ to summon a familiar. To be like her mother, to gain the approval she sensed that she lacked. And as she had struggled through school, lesson after failed lesson, test after botched test, her failures tenaciously following her, she had started to dream of it, what it would be like to summon her familiar. What that familiar would tell her about _herself_.

This was so very much like those dreams. The same surreal sense of clarity, the feeling of standing outside of herself as the beast loomed over her, illuminated by a thin sliver of moonlight shinning silver down across its silhouette.

In her shattered state of mind, confused, scared out of her wits, the only thing that prevented Louise from wondering for a heartbeat if this was her familiar somehow arrived at last, was her own crushing sense of inadequacy. She could _never_ have summoned such a _beautiful_ creature. And it was that.

If Louise had been asked to compare it to what a familiar should be, she could only have described it with one word.

_Perfect._

Enormous, even sitting relaxed on its haunches, its head would have easily been level with Louise's own if she had been standing. Sleek, powerful feline body, all muscle and sinew knotted up beneath the surface, skin stretched taught across lean flanks and along the insides of powerful forelimbs, trembling with every breath.

That frame, built to stalk and hunt, was covered in tawny fur, shining silkily in the moonlight, shot through with black spots that traced down its back and sides from head to tail, and reached all the way to wide splayed paws that snicked softly as claws like daggers slid smoothly in and out with every breath or small movement.

Eyes glinted down at Louise, large, vivid gold, and filled with a benign intelligence, an awareness that transcended that of a mere animal. When it moved, rising from its haunches, it was with clear, fluid intent, every motion leading gracefully from the last, a cascade of movement that rippled the length of its body.

Louise would have compared it to a Lioness if she hadn't thought it would be a gross insult to its majesty. Rather it was like what a Lion could only wish to be.

And then the tinkling came again as the beast shook its head slowly, a motion that telegraphed down the length of its body. The source of the sound, a tiny silver bell strung from a cord stretched tight around its neck. The same bell that had been worn as an ornament by KoKo.

By KoKo . . .

Louise's eyes widened, the recent past crashed back down onto her, crushing her thoughts aside as she relived everything, every detail of the past moments. She wanted to be sick, felt her breath coming short, struggling to her feet as if she could run, Louise stumbled forward, nearly falling before her wildly groping arms found support against one tawny flank, sinking back to her knees.

It was reassuring, soft, and warm. Even as the world rocked at its foundations around her, she at least was able to find steady footing as she collected herself, ordered he thoughts, steadied her breathing.

"Ko – KoKo?" Louise whispered. Seeing, but not believing.

She'd known. Mother had told her about this. The Fae had spells, powerful spells, that could drastically change their forms. The Lady of the Spriggans had done much the same during the York raid, transforming into a giant hawk. It only made sense that other Faeries would possess similar abilities. And even more sense that a Cait Syth could take the form of a powerful feline.

Leaning her whole body against KoKo's side, Louise hugged tightly. "KoKo . . . Is that really you?"

And then slowly, as if not to startle her, one heavy paw raised up to drape over Louise's shoulder, pulling her into a clumsy embrace as the Cait sat back on her haunches, treating her to another light tonguing. With an ear pressed to KoKo's neck, Louise could hear the soft rumbling as the Faerie turned cat purred lowly.

Gently, she pushed away again, steady pressure finally making the big cat relent. "KoKo." Louise looked her friend in the eyes. "Are . . . are you alright?" A hand raised cautiously to feel at furred cheeks, tickled by long whiskers, "Can you understand me?"

KoKo's reply came in the form of a small -_huff_- as if indignant that Louise even felt the need to ask. Of course KoKo couldn't talk, but she was still the same person. Louise found herself apologizing fervently as she tried again to get to her feet. This time, with KoKo to steady her, she managed to rise and take stock of herself.

Beside her, the Cait's kite-like ears perked atop her head, twitching about, seeking the source of some noise that Louise could not yet hear. And then, in the distance, the shouting, and the hammering of footfalls. The other mages, alerted by the death cries of their friend, were starting to close in.

KoKo's ears flattened, lips pulled back in an angry snarl. Louise grimaced, she had no doubt that KoKo was as fearsome as she appeared right now, but that wasn't going to be enough against three grown Mages. They would be cautious and, her skin crawled as she looked back to the ravaged corpse, they would want revenge for this.

Louise turned back to the big cat, kneeling down to whisper in her ear. "KoKo, listen to me, we have to get out of here and back . . . back to the Palace." They wouldn't be safe until they were back behind the Palace walls and surrounded by the Royal Guard.

But how to do that? Louise began to turn her head to and fro, the street was still a dead end, just as impassable now as it had been when they had arrived. Perhaps . . . perhaps if . . . Louise paled. But it had to be done.

Turning back to the corpse on the ground, blood still hot as it pooled out onto the paving stones. It was made all the more repellant because she knew who had done it. The idea that KoKo could be capable of something like this, the raw brutality, seeing it, her mind simply refused . This man could not have been killed by her friend, no matter how much she knew it to be to the contrary.

But convincing herself of that didn't make it any easier to reach down to open his torn and blood soaked cloak, nor did it allow her to ignore the great, gaping chunk of flesh ripped from his jaw. She found what she was looking for swiftly enough, his wand, still held in a white knuckled death grip. He'd probably tried to cast one last time to no avail.

She steeled herself, and then, ignoring the unpleasant squirming of her own stomach and the fast approaching shouts and footfalls, she pried the wand from his hand, hefting the unfamiliar weight. It was not like the slender wands mother and father had bought for her. Polished hardwood with a hefty grip meant for the hand of a grown man. She gave it a test wave, once, but thought better of trying a practice spell. Given her own malformed abilities, she might only get one use out of it.

Turning back to the wall she started to look for a good spot. If she wasn't careful, she'd bring the whole thing down on their heads. And then she was given pause again. KoKo, having observed calmly, was now leaning forward, almost kneeling, presenting her back to an astonished Louise.

She couldn't mean to . . .

"KoKo?" Louise asked to be sure.

Another small huff, a little shorter, a little more urging this time. They needed to get out of here. KoKo certainly _looked_ like she could bare Louise's weight. And judging by the noise, they didn't have more than a few moments to decide. She didn't think she'd have much success arguing with KoKo anyways.

Taking a breath and saying a small prayer, she stuffed the pilfered wand into her pocket. Crawling onto the Cait's back conjured another memory from Louise's past.

Once, when Cattleya's sickness had been at its worst and she had been bedridden for days on end, her elder sister had passed the time by reading stories and telling Louise Nursery rhymes. Mother wouldn't have any of it, especially whenever Cattleya's coughing fits had acted up, but that just meant they had to do it in secret, after they were both meant to be asleep.

One Rhyme in particular came to mind now as Louise tried to find a way to hold on that wouldn't result in having the powerful cat's shoulder blades digging into her chest, or leave her in danger of sliding off. It was a vague recollection from a simpler time, but she still remembered the last part, the part about 'Catching Lions by the Tail'.

Why a little girl would be catching lions, and why such a rhyme would be told to children in the first place was utterly beyond her in retrospect, but it had lingered with her for years. Suddenly, Louise wondered if this really was at all wise. Perhaps they should . . .

Before Louise could complete that thought, she suddenly felt like a couple dozen copies of herself had decided to take a lie down on her as, in one smooth motion, KoKo's coiled limbs unwound, like a spring releasing all of their stored energy at once, surging upward from a crouch into a near vertical leap. "Hgn ~ Waaaaaaaaaa!"

Louise nearly fell backwards as KoKo's forelimbs stretched out. She was saved only by the nearly strangling grip she'd formed around the Cait's throat. Claws hard and sharp enough to sink into the stone work of one wall, giving her purchase to push upwards.

"Agh." And then against as KoKo gathered up her hind legs, judging the next vertical leap. "Agh!" And again.

Claws caught on shingles, nearly falling as one wooden slat tore free from the roof, causing them to slip perilously. A low growl rumbled from KoKo's throat as her forelimb struck out again, catching this time and buying her leverage to push up with her dangling hind legs, bringing them up onto the rooftops where they were safe . . . almost . . .

Louise heard the calls beneath them and then shivered as the wind whipped at her cloak in an entirely unnatural fashion. "KoKo!" Louise cringed as holes were punched in the roof by the passage of air bullets and stone slugs formed and throne by an earth mage. They'd been seen escaping.

Thankfully, KoKo didn't need any further instruction, paws under her, head cocked, the Cait got her bearings on the Palace and its surrounding grounds in the distance and immediately began to pick up speed, falling into long, bounding gate across the rooftops. Fast and sure footed, Louise was certain it all looked very graceful, all very impressive, but it was not so to be along for the ride. A Cat, as it turned out, made a lousy mount.

"Ghn, gah!" Louise shouted as she bit on her own tongue, feeling the coppery taste of blood as another air bullet whistled past her head. The pursuing mages had taken to the roofs now, three, dark cloaked figures running along behind them, or parelleling on opposite rooftops. Three!

'What did we ever do to deserve this?!' Louise wondered as she scrabbled for her stolen wand and begun to shoot back. No easy task as she was nearly thrown from her seat time after time. She was probably going to die, Louise decided, either killed by the mages chasing them or shaken to bits by KoKo's gate.

But before that, she wanted to get in a few licks against the people who were doing this to them. Who had almost killed her and her friend and might still yet.

Another vicious barrage shredded the roof tops all around them, a stone projectile exploding a chimney beside them like a cannonball. 'We're going to get hit. We're going to get hit and die!' Louise whimpered, but bit down on the terror, pointing her own wand back and chanting whatever garbage spell she could think of. It hardly mattered which since it would turn out the same anyway.

The mage running parallel with them, along the roof of a taller building that gave him the high ground, saw her aiming for him and promptly skidded to a halt, switching to a defense stance to parry. He would be expecting fire balls or wind arrows, an earth transmutation, or maybe a water whip. The explosion set off in his face like a fistful of gunpowder must have come as quite a surprise. He was knocked off his feet, sent tumbling out of sight on the far side of the roof.

"Got one!" Louise cried triumphantly, ignoring the fact that she may well have just killed a person. She wouldn't feel bad about protecting herself and KoKo. And Besides, there were still two left in close pursuit. And something more ahead of them.

Lights, like fire in the sky, it drew her eyes forward, ahead of them towards the river. The fireworks set for the Gala had started now. But something was clearly wrong. Seen from behind, it became clear that far from shooting up into the over the river sky as they should, the display was arching dangerously over the city, brilliant flames descending on the Palace and its grounds where they burst.

"Oh no." Louise whispered. The fireworks. Someone was using them to bombard the Palace! It had to be part of the conspirators plans, maybe to kill people with the improvised artillery or . . . or a diversion . . . or . . . Louise shook her head, she wasn't a battle mage or any sort of soldier, she could only guess wildly at what was happening. All she knew was that there had to be something that could be done. Something that they could _do_.

Louise thought, thought hard about it. Fireworks were basically just rockets or thin shells crammed full of gunpowder and alchemic compounds that would burn brightly with beautiful colors once ignited. That basically made the fireworks barges giant bombs full of gunpowder packed close to other bombs full of gunpowder being fired into the sky in showers of sparks and flames. It was no wonder that the display was launched from barges in the river and manned exclusively by very brave and very handsomely payed commoners. No sane mage would stand within a hundred _mails of_ that!

And that volatility also made them perfect. Gathering up all the courage she could muster, Louise leaned down and shouted in KoKo's ear.

"Those fireworks, KoKo, we can't let them get away with this." The Cait observed her from the corner of one golden eye. As if deciding whether to listen or ignore her. "Please! I just need one good shot! If you can run us along the roof tops near the river . . . "

Cait and Mage cringed away from the searing path of a fireball, a near miss by one of the remaining mages. Louise nearly fell off once more, but caught herself.

Louise had no idea if KoKo would actually do as she asked. It was insane. They were in enough trouble just running for their lives. Then, slowly, their path began to change, KoKo vaulting roof tops and arcing gently to parallel with the river as the sky filled with fire, more of the thin shell mortars bursting from their tubes to tumble through the air and explode in a cascade that was gradually falling down towards the water. What did that mean?

The Palace Guards had started to respond by now. Louise could see the wind barriers by the smoke and sparks that they displaced and also the fireballs and flame whips that were spitting from the walls out over the city to intercept the mortars as they fell short.

She'd heard Janglers ordering his men to set fire to the district. Maybe the conspirators just wanted to do as much damage as they could. If so, it would be clear in the streets beneath them. Blurs of running, shouting, confused, Commoners and Petty Mages fearing for their lives as the church bells began to ring at odd hours.

Where were the Mancticore Knights? Where were the Griffins and Dragons?!

Louise blinked in a daze up at the sky and thought she made out a few dark shapes, they might have been splotches in her eyes though, the flashes were making it hard to see as her vision was alternately filled with brilliant light and impenetrable dark until she couldn't tell which was which, the after glow invading even when her eyes were shut.

Another bound nearly bucking Louise, another teeth chattering landing. KoKo dropped down to a lower roof, and then again until they were running along the tops of the warehouses towards the bank of the river. The way that the river curved, they would be arriving from the opposite bank and so wouldn't fal under the fireworks barrage.

"They'll never see us . . . "

The end of the thought never left her lips as Louise felt like . . . like she'd just been punched by an Orc. That would probably be the best way to describe the sensation as she felt her ribs crack under the concussive force, vision flashing so red it was like one of the mortar shells had just burst in her face. Louise was thrown, torn from her place atop KoKo, crashing into a tumbling roll that didn't stop when she hit the edge of the roof tops, fall arrested by a thatch awning and then another fall onto a stack of not so forgiving crates, at last tumbling to as top in a world spinning daze.

Louise had thought she'd wanted to puke before, but no, that hadn't been nearly this potent, nearly this _visceral_. Coughing heavily, each breath an agony, she felt something thick working its way up from her stomach, not quite vomit, but an unpleasant, brackish, thick substance that she spat out onto the paving stones as she rolled over, trying to stand.

It was, she concluded, her cloak that had saved, and also her cloak that had made her feel so awful afterwords. Hand probing at her side, she found the place where the outer lining had been shredded, most likely by a wind bullet, but beneath that, the Lhamthanc leather felt unblemished.

Mother had told stories about such things. Apparently, Rub Al'Khali soldiers would wear vests of tightly spun silk, the weave so strong that it could resist knife stabs and even arrows that would pierce the old suits of heavy armor. But cloth armor had its limitations and the body beneath would still have to weather the force of the blow. Louise might have survived, but her side had been forced to take the brunt of the wind bullet striking over a very small area. It would be a wonder if she hadn't broken something.

Suddenly, fire, like white hot light, mind blowing pain. Louise felt herself being picked up again, thrown across the pavement as she let out a cry, stolen wand clattering across the pavement to where it was smashed under the boot of an approaching mage, followed by another standing the shadows of the warehouse building.

"That's enough. Kill her and be done with it." The mage standing over the broken focus instructed his comrade.

"Not yet. She nearly killed me," The Mage who had kicked her growled darkly. "And we need to pay this stupid bitch back for what she and her familiar did to Marco." He came up beside Louise. Still stunned, she looked up at the man, large watery eyes gazing down with disapproval, small mouth twisted downward in a frown.

Without prompting, he kicked her again, this time in the stomach and Louise feared she was going to gag, to suffocate as the contents of her stomach pushed their way back up.

"Don't be so wasteful." The second mage said the one standing over Louise. "We haven't the time to be taking her life like this. Just thread a needle through her eye and be done with it." Then he added. "Our superiors will look favorably on such professionalism."

The mage standing over her stared down for a time. "We could always just _say_ we did . . ." Louise felt her heart pounding, eyes wide with terror. Then, something changed in the man's eyes. "Feh, not worth my time." Boot pressing firmly against her shoulder, rolling Louise onto her back. The weight grew heavier, crushing as she looked up.

This couldn't be real. She thought to herself. The man raising his wand like the execution axe. This couldn't be happening. She was going to die now, when this man's air needle went through her eye and pierced her brain. As simple and efficient as a butcher killing a pig.

-_Roooaaarrraaaaooorrrr-_

The grounded Mages spun about, leveling their wands in every direction.

"I thought you hit the familiar." The Mage standing over Louise grunted.

The sound echoed again, low and primal, enough to make a person's blood run cold.

"I did too." The mage still in the shadows replied. "It's just a stupid animal, even with the blasted runes."

"Just stay close, it's no different than dealing with any other dangerous beast." The man who was their nominal leader instructed.

"Where is it?" The one who had been intent on killing her asked out loud. "Where is . . ."

One instant a still shadow, the next, death leaping towards them. He had one chance to shout a word of warning and then battle exploded all around as Louise weakly crawled for cover, not sure when she was going to pass out.

KoKo had come for her, and the Cait looked every inch the enraged lioness as she bared down on the three Mages.

The space they were in, it couldn't have been that large, was some sort of courtyard that serviced the warehouses rising up all around them. There wasn't much space, and what there was, was filled with crates and barrels waiting to be loaded or stowed the following day. It was the perfect hunting ground for KoKo who could take the three mages by surprise, dropping from all sides in swift ambush attempts before vanishing again.

The mages were skilled, expert fighters for sure, but this wasn't any sort of fight they had experienced before. For all their skill, their fire was wasted, trailing off in the darkness, flames catching the trailing tip of a tail or a fleeting flash of golden eyes.

Her third strike, a spray of bright blood and a cry of rage rose from one of the mages, his forearm opened from wrist to elbow without recourse.

"Damn it! I told you to stay calm and kill this thing!"

"Shit, it's _stalking _us!"

The mage nearest Louise nodded, as if thinking to himself. "Then we'll just make it come out." Turning his eyes back to Louise, he rushed for her, grabbing her up by the throat despite her struggles and lifting her into the air. He began to squeeze.

"Come out little kitty!" The man shouted. "Come out and save your master like a good familiar. That is your reason de'tre isn't it?" Silence. "Or . . ." He squeezed tighter, Louise gasping for air.

"Would you prefer I just killed her now?"

'No, KoKo, don't do it, it's what they want.' Louise squeezed her eyes shut, and then screaming at the top her lungs. "You promised!"

"Shut up!" She was shaken, but she refused to be silenced.

Her ribs sent needles of fire racing up her spine, so intense she was sure she would pass out, as she shouted at the top of her lungs. "You promised you'd save yourself! Don't you remember . . . ach . . ." Louise choked as he windpipe was squeezed shut.

"I said, shut . . ."

-_Rooaarrrraarrr_

And then Louise was falling, striking the ground, barely conscious as the spots receded from her eyes. KoKo, reared up on her hind legs, wrestling with the man who had been baiting her. She was winning.

Screaming hateful obscenities, half mixed with inarticulate shouts of rage, the man was being pushed backwards, claws tearing bloody gouges in his back, jaws crushing his right arm into ruin. The other two dare not attack while KoKo had him in a death grip. They couldn't be sure he wouldn't be hit.

KoKo leaned into him, pushing the mage back, Jaws constricted until it seemed like she was going to simply snap the whole forearm like a twig. Which, she very may have intended. At that point, the viciousness Louise was seeing before her, there was very little difference between this and a wild animal.

Scrabbling at his belt, the man's fingers caught on something, pulling it free, it glinted in the cloud stained light and Louise shrieked a warning as the dagger slipped between KoKo's ribs, sinking to the hilt. And then again, and again, and again . . .

KoKo didn't cry out, didn't let go, she simply tightened her own grip, clinging on to him, claws burying themselves deeper, jaws splintering bone as the man wept in agony and despair and hate. They were killing each other. It was simply a race to see who would die last. And KoKo was losing.

The stabs were starting to catch up with her, either something vital had been hit, or she was losing blood too quickly. Maybe the poison was still having a much reduced effect. But she was starting to stumble, to slip, her grip loosened, her legs began to fail and wobble.

'No . . . No . . . It's not supposed to end like this . . .' Louise wept out, it wasn't supposed to . . .

The man, bloodied, certainly near death, certainly only standing on the last of his willpower, breathed raggedly as he staggered back, eyes never leaving the dying cat sinking to the ground, still growling, still bearing her fangs as she stumbled forward drunkenly.

"Martin!" One of the other mages ran to his side, steadying him as he drew his want to stem the flow of blood.

"Put that _thing_ out of my misery." The wounded mage gasped.

Exchanging glances with one another, the mage who had been wounded previously, his left arm still dripping blood, advanced on the barely conscious Cait, incanting softly in spite of his pain. He came to stop over a dozen mails from KoKo, raising his wand, taking the time to complete the fully chant of a fireball spells that would incinerate the dying Faerie in an eyeblink.

'A wand . . . I need a wand . . . or . . . or a stone . . .' Louise looked all about, praying for something anything. The futility was welling up in her, the anger, and the resentment, the refusal. All of it! She could feel it, pounding against her temples, a pressure behind her eyes, burning at her sinuses.

The last words, the hellish glow of flames.

"NO!" Lousie reached out, hand spread wide, screaming a chant at the top of her lungs. And then, for a glimmering instant, the chant that she spoke and the one that echoed in her head were the same.

A shower of golden script encircling her arm from shoulder to wrist, rings within rings of runes, stopping, interlocking, flashing together into a long and complex tapestry of glowing, arcane text, and then.

-_BOOM!-_

The growing fireball burst, flames guttering out. Even injured, the mage jumped back, glancing to his crippled and uninjured comrades. They looked to Louise, unsure of what had happened, unsure what to do next.

Louise sat utterly confused. What had just happened? How? Why?! It was her normal failure, her normal explosions, but without a wand, without even aiming really, it had just . . . struck where she had wanted it. Like it was obeying her.

"Kill the girl first." The leader instructed to his startled subordinate.

The man nodded uncertainly, turning his attention back to Louise, and then she had no time to speculate, about the cause or the effect. It worked, that was all that mattered.

Even wounded, the man was a skilled duelist, this was clear, the motions were practiced to the point of no longer needing to even think to perform them. The same high speed, perfect control displayed by Kirche.

They leveled on each other, a flame whip, explosions, they met in midair. It was a like a chain of firecrackers lighting off, racing down the trail of magic flames, guttering them out until finally reaching their origin, they burst, the man piroetting aside at the last instant. Louise wasn't about to give him a chance.

Parrying quickly, the man was blasted aside, sent rolling across the ground. The other two, looking on in disbelief, were suddenly attacking too. Slugs of conjured earth hurtled through the air, bursting into gravel and clay.

'It's like the pebbles, just like the pebbles!' Louise told herself again and again. Easier even. She _wanted_ to destroy these, and they were coming straight at her. She couldn't miss.

Burst, a flurry of wind spells, earth magic, and flame against nothing but her explosion. Coming so fast, Louise felt her lips slapping together, a blurred babble that couldn't possible be any spell. But she was driven to chant, the pressure throbbing at the base of her skull as she tried to keep up. She didn't have to take aim, her spells were coming one after another, almost at the speed of thought.

The muddled confusion within her was gone, the door had been swung open, but now, it would not be shut. Even so, three mages were more than she could take.

'Faster.' She thought. She needed to be faster. She felt her temples throbbing, her forehead burning.

She was being pushed back, step by step, her defenses crumbling. The men didn't know what they were fighting, and frankly, they didn't care. The type of men who had already seen and fought most anything. A surprise was nothing new, just something that had to be pressed until it failed.

A cloud of wind arrows! Spiral corkscrews of razor wind, twelve in all. Her eyes widened, almost popping from their sockets, lips shifting, numb tongue clumsily completing the last syllable. A trickle of blood dribbled from her nose.

"Nghah!"

Hand thrown forward, rune rings flashing, the air burst as twelve arrows were torn apart, unraveling, decomposing into harmless gusts of wind, and beyond them, between Louise and the Mages, KoKo, laying perfectly still. Louise couldn't even see the rise and fall of her red stained chest.

She starred, not even caring for where she was, trembling as she took a single step forward. The mages, still shocked by seeing a waif survive their barrage, let her.

Something welled up. Not grief, or sorrow, or even anger. This feeling was, it was . . .

"You . . ." Louise trembled, looking up from beneath blood stained hair.

These men.

"YOU!"

These three men.

These three condemned men.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" She shrieked.

Flame whips, wind arrows, and an earth barrier thick enough to deflect cannon fire to hide behind. It didn't help them as Louise babbled, following along with the voice in her head, the whispering voice that came from deep within the memories of her failed spells.

The air was torn apart, firefly lights filling the space between Louise and the mages, condensing down and then exploding outwards in the path of their barrage. The space between them became nothing but a storm of wind and fire. Louise was at her limit. She'd kept her explosions small, but they were slowing, even as she threw herself at the same fevered pace.

Fire got through, here, there, a wind arrow tore at her cloak, and then, a fragment of fireball burst against the left side of her face, a new agony to add to her hell as she clutched at her cheeck with her left hand.

"JUST DIE!"

A cloud of tiny lights flickering for an instant, shrunk to miniscule brilliance.

"BTOOM!"

The blast knocked Louise from her feet, very likely, it knocked her unconscious. It couldn't have been long, maybe just a second. The smoke and dust hadn't cleared yet, but Louise felt something cold striking her cheek as she pulled herself back off the ground and looked out on the world through one good eye.

The courtyard was ruined. Smashed to pieces in the onslaught. Where the three mages had taken shelter behind their fortification, only shattered fragment and black smears remained. The only things that were intact now, were herself and . . .

Louise leaned into a feeble walk towards the remains. She hadn't thought about it not really, but somehow, in the confusion she had aimed her shots to protect KoKo's body as well, bursting the spells around her to form a bubble of safety.

Standing above the still form. Louise looked down. She'd feared when thinking about them dieing, that there couldn't be any feeling worse than that. That what it would feel like for a loved one to really die would be unimaginable. She'd been right. She felt . . . hollow . . . brittle. She just . . . didn't feel . . . anything.

"KoKo?" Louise whispered, inching forward step by step. "KoKo . . . it's not funny . . . KoKo . . . get up." Hands falling to her side. The cold drops were joined by hot streaming down her cheeks. "Get up, please."

From the smoke behind her, a rattle, a shadow. Louise felt the hand grabbing roughly at her shoulder, spinning her around. She saw the horror of a man, dead, but still standing, the flesh peeled from the side of his face, burned muscle, blackened teeth. None of these things moved her at all. Maybe if she just stood still, he'd kill her and this would be over.

Then she saw the dagger in his hand, the blood covered dagger, and in one lifeless motion raised her hand with a whispered chant. The man spasmed, skull bulging grotesquely at the temples, blood burst forcefully from his nose as his eyes rolled back in his skull. He collapsed, dead.

Then, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Louise fell to the ground, nose streaming blood, eyes streaming tears.

In the stillness that followed, the sound of footfalls striking, echoed into the distance, heavy boots running along cobblestones, and three heavier footfalls guided by the fiery red haired girl at their lead.

"Spread out and check the bodies!" The Manticore Knight beside their guide shouted to his subordinates. A dozen musketeers scattered through the courtyard, surveying the damage as they methodically took stock.

"Sir! This girl is still breathing!" One musketeer shouted.

"And her familiar?"

The same musketeer leaned down, holding a hand over the lion like animal's muzzle. Cautiously, he leaned against its chest. "Still breathing . . . barely."

"Miss?" The Manticore Knight turned to the girl.

"I . . . It wasn't with her." She shook her head. "No, it must be KoKo, a Fae, some fae transformation."

The Knight grimaced, shaking his head. "A Fae on top of being a beast. Gatsby." He called to the other Manticore Knight.

"Sir!"

"Do what you can for her. Try to stabilize her while I send for an Undine physician and more healers. Get the girl on a stretcher for transport and . . ." He wrinkled his nose, kicking at the still, mangled body " . . . Get some carts to clean up this filth."

Turning slowly back to the girl at his side. "Miss . . . Miss Zerbst? We'll also need to have you report back with us about what we . . ." He swallowed ". . . Witnessed."

She nodded slowly. That would make sense. Running across the roof tops to reach the source of the explosions, it had been only her and the two Manticore Knights who had seen everything. _Everything_.

"Oh Louise." Kirche whispered as the Faerie Runes stilled flashed before her eyes. "What have you done?"


	34. Pusuit and Counter

Halkegenia Online v2.0 – Ch 10 – Part 7

The world could change in an instant. At one moment, a stately procession of Tristain's finest. The next, terror, a mob fleeing for their lives. Guiche had learned at Dunkirk that the anything could find him on the battlefield. It had not occurred to him that the battlefield itself could follow him, could find him anywhere.

All was anarchy. Guiche could smell nothing but sulfur, and the taste of charcoal was heavy in the air. The royal gala of Tristain's finest had descended to chaos. The madness of hundreds of people trying to do _something_ and accomplishing absolutely nothing with their squandered energy. Worse, making it all but impossible for anyone else to do much better.

Guiche was no different, he knew more than most. He knew that someone had called Mortimer an imposter. He knew that the 'Imposter' had immediately tried to put a knife into the belly of Prince Wales, only to be stopped by Miss Asuna and Miss Midori in an otherworldly display of speed and swordsmanship. He knew that Mortimer's imposter had fled with Miss Midori and the Royal Knights in desperate pursuit. He knew that some of the mages and nobility around him were turning their wands uncertainly on the Fae. He knew that they all were under attack; the castle grounds were suffering bombardment by mortars, very likely the same fireworks that had been planned for the celebration.

But knowing all of that, the most Guiche could manage to do was keep out of the way, shielding Montmorency and trying to gather the concentration to put up a wind barrier to shelter them. To hell with the rest of them if they got themselves killed!

Even in the confusion the Royal Knights had proven themselves deserving of the title of 'the elite'. While Musketeers directed the guests and their retainers inwards, towards the safety of the Palace, the Knights and the martial nobility fought the raining fire.

Wind spells had started going up almost at once, the continued barrage of fireworks striking and skipping from the magic surfaces, some careening into the sky to explode while others slammed into the high walls surrounding the Palace Grounds, illuminating the Gardens in flashes of star burst and hellfire light.

Then it was their turn, Montmorency and himself, to be taken and moved inside. But before Guiche could follow, before he was really sure what was going on, before he could even get a say in the matter, he had found himself being lifted into the air over his eldest brother's shoulder.

Bidding Montmorency goodbye, trying to sound reassuring, and then the unpleasant sensation as his sternum was crushed up into his ribcage by the sudden acceleration.

Montmorency, the crowds, and the Palace had all begun to quickly shrink away behind them as grass and then cobblestones blurred by below with each motion of Reinhardt's bounding gate. Dare he to think that they had to be traveling nearly a league a minute!

Founder knew why brother had thought to drag _him_ along. Probably because he was the only one of his brothers slight enough to be carried like some damsel. All the while being shaken senseless.

"Broth-er-can-you-put-me-down!" Guiche stuttered, nearly biting his tongue on the last word as his teeth chattered together again. This was ludicrous!

"What's that now?" Reinhardt rumbled, seemingly barely winded between his strident gallop and the accelerating charms that he continued to cast with every other breath. "Not up for saving the Kingdom again, brother?"

Again? He hadn't saved it the first time! Guiche wanted to shout something unflattering and immature back at his brother but opted against it. The question had been rhetorical of course, they were Gramonts, and their martial duty as Gramonts, unfortunately, undeniable. Though the timing was unfortunate, the crown was in need of their services once more.

Father knew it as he no doubt stormed in the center of the chaos, demanding order and organizing a response. Reinhardt knew it as he chased after Miss Midori and the Manticore Knights. Erwin knew it as he gathered up the water from the fountains and ponds of the garden to form a hemispherical barrier against more of the improvised projectiles. Axel knew it as he joined with the other Nobles, making a sport of detonating the missiles that fell short of the Palace before they could burst in the streets or on the rooftops beyond.

And Guiche knew it too, much as he hated the thought of what it might mean. And yet he had the gall to feel shame?! He grit his teeth. Making the best of the situation, Guiche pushed himself up as best he could atop Reinhardt's immense shoulder and tried to make sense of where they were going and what was going on.

In the span of a mere handful of breaths, they had covered the distance from the garden balconies of the Palace to the front gates, explosions bursting overhead all the while, and had joined ranks with a second squad of dismounted Manticore Knights heading in the same direction. An enormous pair of wrought iron gates set on heavy metal hinges, still firmly held in place by a strong lock and chained cross-bars barred their way out onto the streets of Tristania.

The Imposter had managed to climb the gates with almost preternatural speed, and Miss Midori had less climbed than simply jumped, tracing a shallow, inhuman trajectory that just barely threaded the needle between the top of the gates and the bottom of the stone archway that they were set in.

Brother had whistled faintly, an achievement in itself. It wasn't like him to be impressed easily. Now it was their turn to pass the gates and not nearly enough time for something so daring.

But these gates were for show, a facade as it were. The main gates that backed them, thick iron strapped, solid hardwood, had been opened wide until they hung against the inside of the walls. All that blocked their way was some fairly mundane ironwork, not much for a quartet of Manticore Knights or a battle-hardened triangle of wind.

Before Reinhardt's mighty gale the gates burst open, nearly torn from their hinges and driven deep into the outer stone highwall of the Palace, chain and lock utterly shattered. The musketeers and Griffin Knights who had been standing watch on the far side were sent leaping for cover again as they raced onto the narrow streets and then continued onward and upward.

Magic gusts, featherweight charms, acceleration and flight spells, and unique creations were all brought to bear as the Knights used every technique at their disposal to move swiftly from the ground up onto the rooftops where they could get a clear vantage from which to give chase to the imposter.

Guiche was breathless. The evening lights of the Capital, usually a soft twinkling like the stars themselves, had been utterly subsumed tonight. Their light seemed as nothing before the releases from the yet-steady barrage of explosive rockets, the smoke rising from across the commoner and merchant districts, and the hundreds of mage lights that had been cast by countless Nobles as they tried to see the source of the confusion.

As Reinhardt vaulted the distance between two buildings, Guiche was treated to a brief glimpse of the street below. The packed masses of humanity, intent on enjoying a night of celebration, were now at a loss for what to do or where to go. Bells echoed out from church towers across the city as the shorter, faster clang of fire alarms demanded to be heard.

"Do you see them, brother?" Reinhardt shouted, squinting as he always did when he forwent his spectacles.

"From this vantage?" Guiche wondered, feeling a little offended by his elder brother's utter lack of thought. "And how am I supposed to be doing that stuck over your back?!" If this got back to Malicorn and the others, he'd never live it down. "This wouldn't happen if you just used your blasted spectacles!"

"Bah! Rubbish things!" The Captain dismissed out of hand. "Anyways, that's what I've got you along for. We all know you got Da's vision. Now look ahead brother!"

Hissing reluctantly, Guiche did as he was told, his head craning and pivoting around in search of any hint of where Miss Midori and the others had continued the pursuit. If the Imposter had dropped down to street level then they would likely never find him. Hidden beneath the eaves and twisting, narrow, back streets he would be nigh invisible from the skies and would easily vanish into the crowds, becoming as one with the masses. And then, then he would be gone.

One of the greatly understated advantages of wearing another's face for an assassination was that it left one's own a sight unseen. The assassin would simply slip away, very possibly as himself.

So there was no point in looking below for him. But he might not be able to go to ground just yet, Midori and the other Knights had been close behind him. If they'd stayed on his trail, then it would be imperative for the imposter to get high to escape or else be trapped by the crowds on the streets. And if that were the case...

A streak of red was briefly visible by the light cast from the still detonating fireworks leaping unto a second story rooftop, and behind it, shapes of black and white.

"Brother!" Guiche pointed, hoping that Reinhardt's vision wasn't so hopelessly addled that he couldn't see where he was being directed. A grunt of acknowledgment told Guiche just about all he needed to know, and they were off again, leaping their way across the rooftops of the capital.

Wind magic, especially while under the influence of secondary acceleration spells, demanded swift wits and concentration. At these reckless speeds all it would take only on slip, a rotten shingle, a loose tile, a single errant firework or spell, and that would be the end. It was not the most pleasing thought to have on hand as Reinhardt charged forward at yet higher speeds, oblivious to all danger. Guiche whispered a prayer to the founder all the while, keeping his voice low to avoid his brother's recrimations.

A Manticore Knight alighted on the rooftop next to them, keeping pace with them. The Knight shouted to his brother. "Captain Gramont, Sir!"

Reinhardt grimaced. "Where the blazes are our air cavalry?!"

Yes, where _were_ the air cavalry? Guiche wondered as his eyes turned up to the sky in search of the familiar shapes of flying mounts in the clouded night sky. There was an entire contingent of Dragon Knights stationed at the Champ de Mars, and the Griffin and Manticore Knights had their own mounts as well.

The Knight grimaced as he shook his head. "We've only two flight pairs kept at the Palace stables, the rest are at Champ de Mars or on extended patrol. "And . . ." He shook his head. "Our mounts were staggering drunken when we brought them out. Poison in their water…"

Reinhardt cursed. Guiche was inclined to agree. Poison strong enough to weaken a Manticore's constitution would be murderous to humans. It was likely not fatal to the Manticores or its effects would have been more apparent and thus alerted the Knights to foul play. But the dosage has been enough. Enough to keep the powerful beasts grounded, out of the sky, yet not so much as to grant forewarning of the conspiracy.

"We've sent word to the Champ de Mars, they'll sortie dragons at once." The Knight assured his brother. "If all this hasn't caused them to do so already!"

"Hm." Reinhardt grunted, though whether it was in acknowledgment or exertion from his latest jump, Guiche couldn't tell. "Keep a man back to send up a flare then, we'll need to mark his location for the dragons . . ."

"Er-uhm-bro-ther . . ." Guiche tried to say as he was shaken again. What he wouldn't have given for a proper mount, or even Faerie wings at this very moment. But no, the Fae Lords were currently in the midst of being stood down by their detractors, and each had brought only a handful of guards as was proper of those trusting their protection to the Crown.

"What is it? Speak up brother!" The wind mage barked, heedless of the oncoming thatch rooftop full of chimneys.

"I-just-do-n't-think-they-ll-see-it-oh-ver-that!" Guiche pointed to the smoke and fire filled sky. The irritated snort from his brother told him that he knew Guiche was quite right.

"Such an elegant little plan they've made themselves." Reinhardt grumbled. "Bah! No time to let that stop us. The enemy lies ahead of us, don't let their tricks slow you!" Waving his wand exuberantly, Reinhardt charged onwards, the Knights in hot pursuit. Albeit, he was oblivious as to which direction he ought to be running. Guiche had to correct him more than once, but now they were angling toward the rooftops where Midori and her own trailing knights had nearly run the Imposter to ground.

The man, or whatever he was, was quick, Guiche gave him that. Almost falling forward as he ran full speed without any sign of magic. Certainly he couldn't be a Fae or he'd have used his wings to make his escape by now. Not that it would matter to the hundreds of witnesses of an attempted assassination. They would, to be sure, draw their own prejudiced conclusions, and something in Guiche made him wonder if this wasn't itself anything more than a fantastically executed diversion.

But if it was, it was one that carried all the hallmarks of a good distraction. The Imposter could not be ignored, they _had_ to give chase. _Had_ to run him to ground and capture him to prove without a doubt that he was not in fact the Salamander Lord.

Now they were close to doing just that. The roof tops of the Capital might have been free of crowds, but they weren't devoid of their own hazards and terrain. Two, three, even four story buildings, were built side by side, offering abrupt changes in the topography, steep roof tops made for treacherous footing and gave many places to hide behind and eaves to take cover beneath, a tactic to evade aerial surveillance.

Two of the Knights following after Midori had taken to the sky using flight spells, but it was a poor stand in at best for Faerie wings and left them unable to direct their magic to more direct measures of stopping the fleeing assassin. What was more, they had risen into a sky that was very much inimical to them, one Knight being forced to hurriedly dodge as a blazing mortar occupied the space he had stood previously.

And it was no accident. Guiche realized. The Imposter had been angling towards the river since they'd spotted him. Now that they dropped down from the rooftop of a nearby church, there was nothing obstructing their view of the water and the two barges sitting at the river center, long, dark, and low to the water.

Only one of the barges was firing, the other appeared to be dead as the tomb, even its lanterns having guttered out. Had the crew been killed? Had the barges and their crews been traitors to begin with, or had they been infiltrated sometime in the night? Caught unawares, the commoner barge hands and the workers trained to aim the launching racks and light the fireworks would be no match for even a small group of mages.

Whoever manned them now, they were allied with the Imposter, that much was obvious as the mortars and rockets began to fall closer and closer to the pursuing Royal Guard. Smashing into chimneys or through windows to burst like bombs, skipping off of rooftops are skittering over thatch to light the city on fire.

They dashed, they dodged, spells deflecting the ones that got too close, and luck saving them from a few very near calls. But this was slowing them down, making the Imposter who braved the oncoming fire like a condemned man, difficult, nigh impossible to get close to. Impossible for all but one.

Miss Midori was still close on his heels, as near to him as his own shadow and closing the distance all the while. Her elegant dress had long since been shed, reduced now to an innermost layer, a short sleeveless, black skirted slip that left her arms and legs free to move and to fight.

'Superb.' Guiche thought, admiring the view. And not just at the way the dark stockings modeled her elegant legs.

The Imposter gave her a single angered glare over the shoulder, vaulting the next rooftop before expertly flicking a knife hidden within the jacket of his coat. How had he managed to infiltrate the party while possessing so many weapons, Guiche wondered.

The knife was deflected just before Midori's eyes, her slender black blade batting it aside at the final instant. For someone who could cut crossbow bolts in flight, a throwing knife would have been child's play. And in return, reaching behind her back, Midori withdrew a trio of tapered silver darts held between fine fingers. Not being designed for such, the throwing needles would almost certainly fail to be lethal, but they might distract, or cause a flinch of pain; at these speeds, a single stumble would almost certainly bring this chase to an end.

Three little drops of silver crossed the distance, but far from striking true, the imposter merely raised a guarding hand, the needles sinking into his forearm.

"You there!" Reinhardt shouted to one of the nearby Knights. "We've the chance to pincer him! Go!"

And indeed they did go. By Guiche's estimates they would cross paths with Midori and their assailant just as they reached the docks lining the river. If there would be any advantageous time and place to put this to an end, that would be it.

"Yes sir!" The Knights all roared at once. Though Reinhardt was not a superior in their chain of command, they were more than willing to follow the orders of an experienced officer in this crisis.

Scattering along the rooftops, Reinhardt and his men to formed a web coming in from the west as Midori and her group, seeing Reinhardt's idea, formed the same formation and charged in from the east. The Tristainian hammer closed in on the Imposter from all directions. Now was their chance.

Taking aim one by one, mindful of the pursuing swordswoman, the Knights slowed and began to fire. A flurry of wind and water spells, intended to stagger and hurt more than to kill, descended upon the Imposter. They missed or grazed at this range; the few that came close to connecting having already spent their energy in flight.

Something amiss: a gout of spellfire to their left had just come out of seemingly nowhere and hit an ally. When Guiche looked to the problem he was treated to the sight of one of the Manticore Knights tumbling end over end across the roof tops until he was brought to an abrupt and final end by a chimney.

"Brother!" Guiche shouted.

He saw what happened next, a window crashing open as someone inside snapped off another shot of spellfire, flame blossoming across a nearby roof to intercept a second Manticore Knight. The Knight managed to get away, jumping into the air, slowing and redirecting himself with a powerful wind gust. A second Knight fell back to join him as the hidden assailants climbed out onto the roof tops, garbed in deep blues and brandishing sword-wands.

"Go on, we will have this!" The first Knight urged to Reinhardt and Guiche; he snapped a command gesture to the final remaining Knight. Taking first guard stance, the two men faced off against the conspirators and then burst into a brutal exchange of spell fire, trading shots so fast and intense that even wind barriers and protective charms would do little if they were hit.

"Brother?!" The Manticore Knights were the finest in the Kingdom, but if this attack was as planned as it appeared, that would be no guarantee of success without help.

"Trust your allies, brother!" Reinhardt yelled by way of answer as he continued the pursuit. "Trust them like they trust us. We Gramonts can do no less. Honor their sacrifice! Now onward!"

It wasn't a matter of trust, Guiche thought; rather it was a matter of if they were going to be the next ones killed tonight!

By the time the brothers caught up with Midori the Imposter was rapidly being cut off and surrounded, desperately running out towards the docks as the Knights closed in from all other sides. Only two of the Knights were still following Midori, but Guiche could hear the sounds of battle and see the flashes of spellfire in the streets, a sure sign that they were still alive and fighting their own battles.

As the brothers loomed over the dockyards, Guiche was dazed, confused ,as to why he could hear the sounds of battle so clearly, and then he realized why. The fireworks that had been launched in a steady barrage for the past minutes had abruptly stopped while at full roar. It was not as if they had run out, but rather, as if they were waiting, biding time for a counterattack.

"Now we have him!", Reinhardt roared and leaped to the streets below.

"Wait brother!"

Fire spewed forth from the dormant barge. The air reverberated with the simultaneous roar of dozens of incendiary projectiles, all their fuses lit. They weren't aimed at the massive Air Knight, nor Midori. Rather, the rockets were all aimed haphazardly, set to burst indiscriminately at short range. They all burst like a wall of chromatic suns, dazzling the eye and nearly dooming them to what was coming. Hidden in the glare like the web of an insidious and evil arachnid, a veritable wall of steel wire and cabling.

The Knights reacted swiftly, unleashing wind gusts to throw themselves out of harm's way, brandishing wind swords to simply cut through, or casting wind shields to protect them as they crashed into the unforgiving wall of taut metal.

Midori forewent all of these option, eyes sparking, she simply picked her opening and shot through like a dart. Sword brandished as she arched through the air, plummeting down towards the turned back of the imposter. At the last instant before the final blow was struck, the wood wall of the structure exploded outwards, catching the swordswoman in a cloud of debris and sending her in a misshapen tumble across the street.

'No, Miss Midori!' Guiche only had time to think.

Reinhardt and Guiche had been closer than the other pursuers; there was simply no time for any measure of evasion, no time for brother to even raise his wand. They crashed through the cabling at full tilt. Reinhardt _lurched_. The earth mage felt himself losing all sense of weight as he separated from his brother's shoulder.

Inside of his own head, Guiche's monologue exploded with obscenities as he wildly waved his wand. As a dot mage, a skilled dot approaching line rank thanks to his father's experienced tutelage, and as a scion of the noble line of Gramont, he loathed to be inelegant. But elegance wasn't going to save them. He needed something simple, something quick. Bronze petals burst from the end of his wand, conjuring and expanding, unfolding into a thin bronze shell that encircled them both. It wouldn't be much protection against the hard ground, but it would have to do.

Praying it would be enough, Guiche grabbed hold of his brother, tensed into a ball and closed his eyes.

The impact, the sheer _force_ of striking the earth had been astonishing. Guiche had been hit before, slapped by angry girls, punched by more powerful men, and of course his near fatal run in with the undead. That failed to describe the shear bone rattling roar as the bronze shell he had wrapped around them crashed through all the cabling, then bounced off the opposing building, and finally rolled for a good long ways before another moment of gut wrenching weightlessness and then a final crashing, sparking, skid.

Compared to that, the silence afterward did a rather good job of convincing Guiche that he was dead.

When he opened his eyes to inscrutable darkness, it took him a moment to remember himself, muttering to dispel the conjuration, the bronze barrier dissipating into a cloud of dust and base earth. Every fiber of his being hurt, but his first concern had to be his brother.

"Reinhardt?" Guiche turned over, pushing himself off the ground. "Reinhardt, speak to me . . ." Guiche let his voice drop as he went pale.

His brother coughed heavily, groaning as he slowly propped himself up. "Aye . . . That was bit of a spill." The wind mage winced as he began to brush himself off with his free arm, rolling his shoulders as if to test for injury. "But any landing you can walk away from I'd say, eh?"

"Brother." Guiche felt his voice trembling, he felt like he was going to be ill.

The elder Gramont brother grimaced, it was clear he was in more pain then he would admit. "And what are you about, stuttering like that? You're to be a soldier aren't you?" Shifting as if to get his right leg under him, Reinhardt winced in pain, reaching down to rub at the offending limb and then giving pause as he found that beneath the knee, his right leg was no longer there. In the dim light, Guiche could see the white of bone among flowing rivulets of red.

It would not have been an exaggeration, Guiche thought, to say that his brother's eyes nearly burst from their sockets as he gave out an agonized hiss. A Gramont man would never cry out, but that small sign of pain shook Guiche from his own shock. Quickly, they had to bind it! A tourniquet, something to stop the bleeding.

Stumbling through a quick chant, Guiche conjured a knife and began cutting strips of his own jacket. "Aye, hold still brother!" He ordered as he went to work, fingers fumbling. Reinhardt would need a proper water mage for this, the little healing magic that Guiche knew would have been worse than useless with something like this, he could in fact make things worse, do damage rather than heal

Reinhardt had none of it. "What . . . the blazes did they throw at us? It looked like wire?"

"Strung from the warehouses." Guiche agreed. His brother wasn't going to stop talking so soon as well answer his questions. "The assassin fled when he failed, but it must never have been his intention to be caught if possible. They must have prepared for our pursuit if their plan had failed. Which means he and his allies had this route planned from the beginning." And stupidly they had followed at his heels like loyal little Guards of King and Country. "And, remember what the Knights mentioned; their mounts have been poisoned."

Reinhardt growled in rage and pain as the tourniquet was set. "The villains had help from within our ranks. Blasted traitors in our midst . . ." Reinhardt groaned as he clutched at his right knee. His pained hisses were only overshadowed by the crashing of debris and the groaning of wood coming from not far away.

"Listen to me Guiche . . . gah . . . we cannot allow this to go unopposed. We cannot allow that man, that imposter, whatever he is, to escape! Our family has made alliances with the Fae already, for the good of ourselves and for the good of all Tristain." As if Guiche needed to be told that. "This . . ." Reinhardt sucked in breath, "If it is some sort of trick to drive a wedge between us and our allies, this could doom the Fae and us along with them."

Like the standoff that had erupted in an instant at the party. All it would take was one wrong move, one spell cast in fear. It could erase so much, unleash the hatreds bubbling just beneath the surface of much of the nobility. Civil war in Tristain with a mounting invasion from Albion on their doorstep. All could be lost.

"Guiche." Reinhardt leaned back against a wall as he finished with the tourniquet. "You are a Gramont, you know your duty, to King and Country and family." A pained smile. "Now don't disappoint, little brother."

How could brother say something like this?! His leg! He'd just lost his leg and he was worried about the family and the kingdom?! He was…Guiche stood up slowly as the crashing sounds came again. He was . . . an inarticulate, angry shout. Guiche turned toward the noise and broke into a run, roaring. He was absolutely right!

And even as Guiche ran, feeling every step of the way as though he was going to wet himself, all he could think of was what it would mean for them, for all of them if they lost now. A chaotic country descending into chaos, or worse, outright civil war and invasion, nobody would be safe. Least of all soldiers like the Gramonts. But mostly . . . '_Montmorency'._

He wanted to weep at that. When she was angry, she was more than he knew what to do with, when she was happy, she was the best friend he could have, and when he was lost he could tell her anything. He was lucky, so very lucky to have her. And she would be in exactly as much danger as everyone else if Tristain was invaded, if this imposter was allowed to escape. Intolerable!

The dust rising from around the corner obscured his view, but a weak wind cleared the way as he rounded the corner and stopped, feeling his legs nearly give out as he saw what was emerging from the shadows of the collapsed warehouse.

It was impressive on the merits of size alone, he'd admit, though father would never have tolerated such a clumsy, hideous arrangement of stone, wood, and rubble. It was the mark of a powerful mage that it could be made to work, and of a sloppy mage that time hadn't been made to prepare better materials. Slow, methodical, lurching motions, one stone limb rising to beat aside the remains of the roof as it rose to its full height, nearly five mails tall and half as broad across the shoulders, head a shapeless lump of stone, overly long arms a crude assemblage of crumbling earth, gravel and wooden beams.

It was advancing, a methodical, startlingly human gait, limbs swaying with each step towards a doorway on the far side of the wide thoroughfare that serviced the docks, and the solitary figure struggling to stand in the midst of the rubble.

"Midori!"

Guiche saw her pulling herself free from the ruins of a doorway, the stained oak at her back back smashed to splinters by her impact. Arms wrapped around her stomach as she trembled in pain. Beaten and bloody, her dress and stockings torn to reveal bruising and cuts all over her legs. She hardly resembled a skilled swordswoman now. More alike to a hurt little waif that had no business here in the midst of battle and death.

The golem seemed to think the same, raising one arm in a powerful motion, readying for a crushing downward swing. Midori managed to look up through one eye, gathering her legs, and in the darkness, a faint glow flickered at her back; a trick of the light?

All of his determination from moments before came into question. What could he do against something like that?! It was the work of a high line, no, a triangle at least to make such a mishmash of rubble and earth move so easily. And yet . . .

_Don't sell yourself short Guiche._

The arm began to gather speed, began to fall. He thrust out his wand.

The Golem stopped . . . its motion ended, its arms shuddering as if held in place by an invisible hand of power. Guiche felt like that same hand was pressing down on his own skull as he threw all he could into ripping apart the construct's magics. With all the different materials comprising the golem, it wasn't hard to interfere with the internal web of magic, but he couldn't hold this attack for long. Already he felt the pressure building towards migraine, the feedback from trying to control a construct that he, a dot, had no business interfering with.

Suddenly overbalanced, it staggered forward, stumbling and pulverizing the street before it, but slowly enough for Midori to recover and rush out of the way, regain her bearing and turn back to face it.

"Midori?" Guiche asked breathlessly.

"I'm fine." The swordswoman called. "Don't worry about me."

Long forearms dug into the earth, correcting balance, allowing the monster to turn itself precariously about, head turning from side to side as if deciding whether to go for Midori or Guiche first. It settled on Guiche. Leaning forward with an unusual level of dexterity, the rubble Golem broke into a sprint, intent on simply smearing Guiche across the paving stones. Guiche's attempt to slow its progress was now doing next to nothing as the Golem's controlling mage now poured all of his will into driving his construct forward to battle.

One broad stone fist swung in a hook; if it connected, Guiche was sure it would simply tear him in two. With a powerful tug at his collar, he felt himself flying backwards, the Golem's knuckles passing like a cannonball so close he could feel the wind of its passage. And then he was tumbling back out of the way. Midori had taken his place.

"No! Miss Midori! Run!"

Without a sword, without any sort of weapon at all, what could she ever hope to do? Another titanic fist descended to smash her to paste. With nothing but a small inhalation, Midori rushed forward, the Golem's blow digging a furrow in the earth where she had stood a breath before. Guiche watched, and even though he knew what he was seeing was real, he still didn't believe it. The Golem's only connecting strike had been by surprise, now that it was really facing Midori, here, in the open, it couldn't land a single hit.

The Master's frustration showing through in its movements, another fist crashed into the earth where Midori had been standing, the construct again overbalanced, and this time, Midori was ready, assuming a low stance, and gathering her hands close to her side.

'But she hasn't a weapon.' Guiche thought, her sword had been lost in the confusion, she only had her bare hands. Her bare . . . hands . . .

It would have been impossible to miss it, the glow gathering in the palm of her left hand, flickering and building up, causing her skin to shimmer all the way up her forearm like she was holding a fistful of mage light. And then, as the Golem tried to stumble away, she released it, blow building through arms to shoulder, then down the back to her leg.

The Golem staggered, nearly falling backwards, forearm still smoking where the entire fist had been shattered at the wrist. Guiche never would have imaged that there would be any being of flesh and blood that could manage that stone splitting force. But, impressive as it was, t wasn't over yet.

"Guiche." Midori ordered. "Swords."

Guiche obeyed without a word. It was the least he could do, the very least. Casting quickly, a shower of bronze petals came forth from his wand, settling to the ground where they began to transmute, gathering up the local earth to reshape into a half dozen simple, but perfectly serviceable, short swords.

He'd meant to produce the extras simply to give Midori a choice of preference, he hadn't been expecting her to grab a second blade as she made her way towards the behemoth in front of her, stalking forward with supreme confidence.

With the Golem's next punch she jumped, alighting on its fist and rushing up the arm, and then in a blur sparks raged as the construct recoiled back, blow after blow striking against its head until it began to chip and shatter, until the blade's in Midori's hands broke under the onslaught. A clumsy swipe with its handless arm knocked the swordswoman free.

Landing and rolling backwards, she grabbed the next two swords before dashing back in, delivering a metal shattering double strike to the golem's left ankle and then again with the last pair of swords to the same place, weakening the leg.

"Guiche!"

"Right!"

He understood now, unleashing another wave of bronze petals, not just a sprinkling, a _shower_ falling all around Midori. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before. Dozens of blades came forth around the battlefield. Whenever one broke or grew dull she'd simply grab another, never relenting in her double handed assault, chipping away at the stone and rumble, cracking and splintering rock.

The Golem and its Master couldn't possibly take much more. A final punch, thrown from the ruined arm. Midori crossed her two latest swords but it still sent her skidding, tumbling backwards until she caught herself barely mails from Guiche.

By now, he wasn't worried about her, he just needed to know what she wanted from him. A small glance, picked up from the corner of his eye and understood instantly. More swords formed, one after another, two rows extending arm lengths apart towards and then past the golem. This was the end.

Midori _surged_ forward, and for the barest moment Guiche thought he saw something at her back, a smoky blackness rising from between her shoulders, but there was no time to wonder, throwing his concentration into one last act of sabotage. Again he nearly ruptured himself throwing everything he could at the insides of the Golem, again it was slowed, not by much, but maybe by enough.

Enough that when Midori hit, blow after blow landed without any chance to defend, no final defense or hardening of its skin was allowed. Limbs began to crack, wood and stone chipped away, slowly stumbling backwards between the line of conjured swords, each failing after a single overwhelming strike, opening the way for the next. Never ceasing, never slowing.

It had had enough, arms crumbling, falling to the sides, suddenly unbalanced, Midori cast away the last of the swords and in a final blow, drove a spear hand strike into, and _through_ the behemoths earth and gravel chest. Falling still, with a last rumbling groan, the Golem began to collapse on itself, sustaining magic falling apart, falling inward, until at last all that was left was a pile of beaten rubble.

And beyond the cloud of dust and smoke at the far end of the dock, free of them, the Imposter running towards one of the water outlets that fed beneath the city. If he got into that maze they'd never find him! They were close, only a short span of water separated them.

"Midori!"

A last sword conjured out of thin air, the girl grabbed it, blinking in surprise as she felt the familiar weight and balance. Guiche for one thought it a nice touch, he'd taken the liberty of very carefully memorizing the nature and form of the swordswoman's preferred weapon. Whether she cared to comment was academic; displaying her speed once more, Guiche ran after her, even though he knew he could never keep up.

The Imposter was scaling the gravel and stone along the shore, he was climbing the last steps to the entrance to the waterway, he had only mails to go. Then something, perhaps a sixth sense made him turn …bronze flashed.

Guiche felt his breath slow, eyes unfocused for a time until he felt something cold and wet strike his cheek, and then another and another. Drop after drop, the rain beginning to fall until at last he found himself standing in the middle of a downpour.

A by now familiar, almost comforting voice reached him. "Guiche?"

There was no time to lose. The Golem! Where there was a Golem, there was usually a controlling Golemetrist nearby. This brute was simply too crude to be a proper Alvis.

"Miss Midori, do you see him?"

"Guiche?"

"Do you see the mage, the mage who was controlling that Golem?"

"Guiche."

"He must be around here somewhe . . ."

"Guiche!" Spoken for the last time, loud and commanding, he fell silent as if scolded by his childhood nanny. Midori looked up at him, shaking her head slowly. "He's probably long gone by now. Besides, we got what we were after."

The most unpleasant expression of distress suddenly crossed the young swordswoman's face as she held the form in her hands by its hair. "I really hope this _wasn't_ Lord Mortimer . . . otherwise his brother is going to kill me."

Perhaps literally. Guiche thought as he found himself face to face with the Imposters last expression of profound shock.

"Perhaps a more restrained technique could have been used." Guiche speculated.

Midori shook her head. "He wasn't going to come quietly, and we already lost people." She looked around suddenly. "You were with someone…?"

Guiche's eyes widened. "Brother! Please, we have to hurry back to him now, please just this way…."

All else forgotten, they ran the way back, Guiche leading to the alley where he had left Reinhardt. By the time they got there, they found the Captain in the company of two of the surviving Manticore Knights. Uniforms shredded from close calls, and one baering a bandage over his right eye, it was clear that they'd been in a fight and come back victorious, if barely.

"Brother!" Guiche cried as he saw Reinhardt laying still, covered to the neck by a cloak.

A heavy hand planted itself firmly on his shoulder. "He's just been put under so that we can move him without pain." The bandaged Knight said. "Fortunately the cut is fairly clean, and the tourniquet prevented too much bleeding. We'll send him to the Champ de Mars infirmary as soon as our cavalry lands."

A loud cry came from above, the noises of dragons as they began to circle, minutes too late to be of any use, but a comforting presence nonetheless, a reminder that control was reasserting itself. They rest would have to be left to them.

'This rain should help with the fires at least . . .' Guiche thought darkly. It was small comfort for a disastrous evening.

Turning his eyes back to Midori, Guiche saw her hand the severed head off to the second Knight for verification. She was standing in the cold, soaked to the bone. The remains of her once beautiful dress clung to her skin, making her look even smaller and more fragile than usual. She gave a small shiver, well hidden but still there.

Guiche shook his head. He was a Gramont, and Gramonts were gentlemen. "Miss Midori?" He offered his jacket, gently draping it over her shoulders.

Midori looked down at the garment, hands feeling at its materials. A small frown crinkled her delicate features. "Guiche . . . this is soaked all the way through . . ."

"It's . . . the thought that counts?" He offered the only comeback he could think of.

Midori opened her mouth to answer, but instead just sighed. "Guiche . . ."

"Yes?"

"Just stop talking."

"Okay."

The remaining Manticore Knights arrived not long after, being mostly unscathed despite the battles against the Imposter's allies. They had been victorious but had failed to capture any of the attackers. They'd either escaped into the underground or else refused to be taken alive. Which meant they could only hope that something of wisdom could be gleaned from the Imposter's disarticulated corpse.

While the Knights secured the rest of the body, scoured the area, and investigated the now abandoned river barges, Midori and Guiche were taken back to the palace to make their report.

Arriving, they found that the chaos they had left behind had not much improved. Guard officers were still shouting orders and nobles were still squabbling with one another, but at least no one was pointing wands at one another, and there seemed to be some sort of higher purpose to the madness that had taken hold.

"Guiche!" Montmorency cried when she saw him, fighting through the packed hallways to embrace him tightly. If this was the reception he would receive every time he ran off into danger, then maybe the idea wasn't as unpalatable as he had first thought. But here wasn't time for a long reunion. With the scarce moments he had, he hugged her tightly before letting go, promising the crying girl to return soon.

Their female musketeer escort led them directly to a parlor where Captain Hammond of the Manticore Knights was conferring with his officers and directing the lockdown of the Capital, or at least, he was trying to, if not for the bellowing old man leaning over him.

"Incompetence piled on incompetence! You had only one duty tonight, yet failed utterly! Find her or I will have your head!" Finally, allowing himself to be taken by the armsmen, the person of Lord Justice Richmond was escorted from the room while a bemused Captain Hammond watched on.

"Sir! Guiche de Gramont and Miss Midori here to speak with you." The musketeer offered a clumsy salute before retreating to stand beside the closed door. Curious that a musketeer wouldn't be carrying a musket . . . Guiche squinted at the girl. She was so very familiar…

Musketeer asude, here were yet more peculiarities in the room. For one, it was not occupied merely by the Captain's subordinates, nor did he appear to be the only one giving orders.

"We need to take advantage of this rain. Sir Bowen, you said your earth Mages can open up these streets?" The Lady Asuna leaned intently over the table, one slender index finger tapping the surface of a map of the Capital. "Do you think we can use the district dividing street as a firebreak?"

A Griffin Knight, stroking his chin thoughtfully gave a small nod. "It's wide enough. But we'll need earth mages for work like that."

"There's a team of Gnome Geomancers at the training camp right now. I've already sent messages to them." The Lady Asuna replied, crossing her arms. "If we isolate these sections of the commoner districts that should free up people who would be protecting their own businesses and homes to aid in fighting the fires."

"Very well." Sir Bowen said. "I'll have my men put right on it."

Looking curiously to Captain Hammond, the Manticore Knight simply shrugged. "I've been indisposed I fear, and once the Nobility were calmed enough to free up the Fae, the Faerie Lords made themselves immediately available to assist in fighting the fires and capturing any remaining conspirators. Lady Asuna has been liaising with us at Prince Wales' suggestion."

"Asuna is a very adaptable girl." The Prince agreed as he leaned against the table, looking much more tired now than he had less than an hour ago. "I don't think we could ask for a better mind to coordinate our efforts tonight."

Midori's eyes lingered on the Faerie princess until Asuna glanced up, meeting Midori's eyes. She gave a small, reassuring smile before another Noble officer came forward, clearly looking to have his questions answered.

"Now then." Captain Hammond eyed them both. "Your reports."

Brief and to the point, underlining everything they had seen and gone through. The Captain listened calmly, stopping them each at several points for clarification until he was at last satisfied with their story.

"It's an unfortunate turn of events that you couldn't bring him back alive."

"Though I believe I am in your debt once more." Prince Wales added. "We really must turn an eye to preventing this in the future wouldn't you say?"

All too right. Guiche and Midori nodded together.

"If I might be so bold, is that what the Lord Justice was hounding you over?" Guiche asked cautiously. Though, it left him to wonder what the consequences would be for his own family. He shuddered to think.

"No, that would be another issue." The Captain said as he turned back to his map. "Sir Bjorn, cordon this section of the river, it's the most likely outlet to be used."

"Yes Sir!" The Griffin Knight saluted before hurrying from the room. In his absence Captain Hammond continued.

"It would appear that the Princess has been kidnapped."

The words hung in the air for entirely too long without anyone batting an eye. Guiche felt sick. He'd been right to suspect it was diversion. The Prince of Albion saved, the Imposter exposed and killed. Had this all been for nothing?!

"But . . . how . . . how is this?!" Guiche began to stammer. The very idea. The Crown Princess was a person of the highest importance, her security was all but impregnable.

Yet a traitor had been the captain of her most trusted royal guard not long ago…even if the rest of the Griffin Knights were loyal, who else might betray her? Just how deep did this web of traitors go? Again he was reminded of the poisoned mounts…

"In the confusion, the guard detail was separated from their principal." Captain Hammond hung his head. "If this reflects poorly on anyone it is I. There is every sign that they made use of the servants passages to escape in the greater confusion. It shouldn't have been possible, but it appears that there may have been an old tunnel that connects the Palace proper to the House of Peers. I can't imagine how they discovered it or who would even have known of its existence."

"Then . . ." Guiche stammered. "I volunteer at once to help with the search for her highness. We must . . ."

"We must remain calm, Mister Gramont." Captain Hammond replied. "Think of how your father would react. We have a plan, we need only wait for it to come to fruition."

Guiche glanced to Miss Midori who still looked as calm as ever, in fact, everyone in this room. Was he standing in a den of traitors?! He wanted to scream. What plan?! Their fair Princess was in the hands of traitors and murderers and enemies of the kingdom!

He didn't have long to wait as a knock came from the door, a pair of servants, a black haired butler and maid, dressed like those that had been serving through the night, were admitted without escorts, the door quickly closed behind them.

"And what do you two have to report?" Captain Hammond asked calmly. Everyone in the room turned their attention to the two new arrivals.

Expression souring, the butler crossed his arm, an unconscionable act that creased his dark uniform in an utterly unacceptable fashion. "We confirmed the tracer took hold, it is still transmitting and the rest of the team is trailing in pursuit. Now can I please get out of this clown suit?" The man shifted uncomfortably.

The maid at his side shook her head. "But . . . you look like a total Sebastian in that form man!" Then, without another word, she raised her hand and swiped at the air, a small cloud of light gathering in her hand and then expanding into runes. Fae Runes.

Guiche's eyes widened. How was this possible, unless . . . "You're Fae!" He bleated. Pointing an accusing finger.

The two servants rolled their eyes. "You figure that out all on your own?" The butler grunted. "You know, if someone's going to try and kill the Prince of Albion while masquerading as a Faerie, you didn't think we wouldn't be involved, did you?"

Well . . . no . . . but. He was too tired for this. "Please." Guiche rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Do explain."

"It's quite alright to be confused." Prince Wales chuckled softly. "But put simply, as Captain Hammond said, it appears that Henrietta has been kidnapped. Of course, appearances can be deceiving . . ."

"Deceiving?" Guiche shook his head.

"Basically." Midori smiled. "The person who was kidnapped isn't the real Henrietta." She turned and pointed to the musketeer fidgeting beside the door. "She is."

"Did you really have to ruin it so quickly?" Petulantly scowling as if disappointed, the musket woman started to undo her short ponytail. Hair spilling down, shaken free, and turning down the collar of her uniform. Actually looking at her, her identity was clear as day. But of course, nobody would ever have thought to look. Especially not at a lowly musketeer. "I thought I was doing a good job!"

Not the real Princess. A _fake_! Guiche felt ready to collapse.

"You were doing a marvelous job." The Prince assured the not Musketeer, now revealed as Princess Henrietta de Tristain, before turning back to a stunned Guiche. "Our decoy is more than capable of taking care of herself and has been tagged with a number of Fae spells so that we might follow her. This was always a contingency of last resort but I must confess it is working out remarkably well and might lead us right to the den of traitors."

"Now you're just asking for more trouble." The disguised Faerie butler grumbled.

The hammering that followed at the door seemed like some omen and all eyes turned inexorably to Prince Wales as if to offer silent accusation. A long, low breath, escapeed from Midori as she, along with everyone else in the room, turned to see who it was.

The sounds of arguing on the other side cut off suddenly, the doors were thrown open to Admit Lady Alicia, Lady Morgiana, and what Guiche could only think of as some sort of horrid specter in the company of General Eugene and a very battered looking Salamander swordswoman trailing close behind.

"Lord . . . Mortimer?" Captain Hammond asked. The real one most assuredly.

Before anyone could say a thing, Lady Alicia stormed forward, eyes slit and face filled with feral anger. "I'm going to ask one last time. WHERE THE HELL IS SAKUYA?!"


	35. Prisoner

Chapter 11 – Part 1

Cold. Icy daggers piercing her skin and soaking into her scalp, spreading and seeping into her nose and down her throat. The unpleasant sensation of throat closing up, of gagging, suffocating!

Sakuya found herself being dragged back to consciousness, gasping, spluttering and confused as her eyes fluttered open upon a dark and distorted world. Wetness seeped icy tendrils down her neck, refusing to be blinked away. She tried to wipe the water from her eyes only to find her wrists bound above her head. Heart suddenly racing. Struggling to sit up, she discovered the same had been done to her ankles, forcing her to assume a reclined position, stretched out atop a long, thin bench, securely affixed to the wall beside her.

Incomprehension and a growing sense of alarm filled her. Where was she? What had happened?

Quickly, the last thing she could remember ...It had been just before the Gala was set to get started. She had parted company with Shirishi, Asuna, and Kirito, wishing them all luck after the past intensive days of planning and practice. They had felt like they had covered every contingency, but that meant there were almost certainly dozens they hadn't even thought of. Sakuya had tried not to think about that, or the cost of failure as she had returned to her guest quarters to prepare for the evening. They all had their parts to plays, and most importantly, they could not allow their vigilance to show.

She remembered reaching her door, nodding politely to Ephi as he stood watch outside. Her gown, the one that Henrietta had insisted she have fitted, would be waiting for her, laid out by the serving staff. An elegant, dark green affair that Alicia had teased her about right up until she and Henrietta had turned the tables, forcing the Cait Lord to step up and be fitted as well. She remembered Ephi opening the door for her, stepping inside, and then ...Nothing. Not even blackness, just ...blank until the moment she had woken.

Her furiously working mind came grinding to a halt as the most inhuman noise started up right beside her. Low and distorted, like the speaker was shouting in water. A short and low laugh, edging ever higher towards insanity.

"Fu fu fu ...aha ...ha ha ha!"

Sakuya turned her head towards the noise. It felt as if it took her mind a moment to catch up with the motion. She felt dizzy, and strangely weak. Trying to flex her fingers returned only a feeble twitching and her tongue felt thick and heavy at it pressed against the roof of her mouth.

'Paralysis?' Sakuya found herself wondering. It matched the reported effects of the paralysis potions and spells at least. Especially as she squinted into the dark all around her. The light cast by a lone lantern should have been enough to see by, but her eyes were only just now beginning to adjust.

The room, what she could make out of it, was tiny, a stone cell possessing only a barred window and a doorway hung with a heavy wood and iron framed door. The only furnishings were a small cot, the one she was laying on, the lantern, and a chair in one corner, laying beneath the darkened window. Only then, as she peered into the darkest corner of the room, the cell, did she see who was laughing.

Face obscured by a smooth, silver helm that distorted and reflected the lantern light, adorned in high grade armor that would have been the envy of most of the Fae serving in the Watch and defense Forces. A Fae, she was certain, no one else would have access to that sort of gear. One hand rested on the hilt of a beautifully polished sword, resting in a scabbard at his side, in the other, he held the Katana Takemikazuchi like a prize.

And then the sudden revelation of what was happening. Her restraints, this stranger standing above her. The Gala and the assassinations, falling into place, piece, by piece.

"What . . ." Sakuya croaked out, feeling anger rising with fear, " ...is the meaning of this?" She tugged at her binds again, feeling the coarse material constrict, cutting into her wrists. She relented for now, struggling was only going to make it worse, better to save her strength.

The Sylphs armored form trembled as if still laughing silently to himself as he stepped slowly forward into the light. She could make out the details of his armor now. Exceptionally well crafted. Mythril mail peeking out from beneath plate and fabric like a layer of silvered silk. And the sword that rested at his hip, impossibly ostentatious, reminded her of something. It nagged at her, eating away at her attention. She almost missed it when he spoke again.

That warped, almost unintelligible voice speaking with so much clear delight and malice. "Ah ah. You shouldn't struggle so much. You don't think I'd give you a chance to break free? Not when I finally have you all to myself. Sakuya-_sama_."

Sakuya blinked rapidly, squinting at the helm as if to somehow reveal who was underneath, who was the bearer of that terrible voice? She shook her head angrily. "Answer my questions", she demanded. Voice still restrained controlled, but carrying an edge now. "Who are you and what is the meaning of this?!"

"So forceful!" The voice echoed, laughing again mercilessly as he stood over her. Looked down at her from behind his helmet. Hands reached up to take hold of the straps, unfastening one by one as if it was some grand display. "But if you insist. How could I deny an order like that?" Slowly, the helmet came away, green hair spilling down, and a face was revealed that had been ravaged by horror.

Sakuya nearly gagged as she looked upon it, flesh like melted wax hanging lifelessly down one side, eye drooping and cloudy white. The hair from his temple to the middle of his forehead was patchy and burned and the ruin extended down the left side of his neck past the collar of his breastplate, leaving no doubt that the damage extended still further.

But the right side of his face was pristine, unblemished, still as handsome as the day she had seen it last, sneering at her as he confidently predicted that he would be immune to banishment. More than seeing the wreck of the left side of his face, seeing half of that smug grin made her want to wretch as her tormentor revealed himself.

"Sigurd." Sakuya said to the ghost, the ghoul that had appeared before her. Suddenly, the need to struggle felt far more urgent.

Sigurd, once the leader of the Sylph military in the game world of ALO, had been one of Sakuya's closest subordinates, and had betrayed them to the Salamanders. His unfortunate decision had nearly cost the Sylphs and the allied Cait Sith their opportunity to attempt the Grand Quest and attain the power of unlimited flight…

Sakuya hadn't given a thought to the man since that day, especially after the Transition had plucked them from the Earth, transformed them, and transported them here to Halkegenia. There were so many more urgent things. In fact, he may have been forgotten for all time if he had not now stood before her, in the flesh.

The fallen Sylph gave a mocking bow, an action that somehow managed to convey even less respect then he had ever shown her as his faction Leader. "At your service, oh high and noble Lady of Sylvain." His smile widened. Through his parted lips, Sakuya could see the yellowed and missing teeth on the left side of his mouth. "Though, I can't say that the title really suits you."

Sakuya glared. "Though I think that face suits _you_ perfectly." She said, almost instantly regretting it.

The retaliation was as swift as it was vicious. Strike landing just below her right eye, Sakuya's head snapped around, leaving her stunned and seeing stars as she worked her jaw, tasting blood. She swallowed, only looking back when she was ready, to find that Sigurd had regained his composure and his look of maddening supremacy.

"It's so like you to say that." Sigurd said as he probed the side of his face delicately. "A little reminder of this world, the parting gift of a Poe Fiend that shredded the rest of my pathetic party in the deep forests." A small shrug, all the effort he would expend on the fallen. "You see, unlike the more fortunate, some of us had the displeasure of waking after the Transition in safe zones far from cities, towns, or help of any kind."

There had been those unfortunates, Sakuya thought. Those few who hadn't understood what had happened, or hadn't managed to retreat to safety after the Transition had occurred. The deep zones in the unaffiliated territories and the dark depths of Jotunheim. Nobody could say how many they had lost, only roughly estimate based on reports given by the high level raid parties that had staggered to the safety of the settlements on that first day.

Sigurd, it appeared, had been among those unfortunates who had survived, but not unscathed.

"Cursed Gaze" Sakuya surmised grimly.

A rare and powerful status effect, one that could be inflicted by only a handful of mobs and spells in all of ALfheim. Manifesting as red markings across the entire effected area, causing random and crippling status ailments. Once it had taken full effect, only respawning could remove it. Here in Halkegenia it had become something much more horrific, something that could never be cured.

Yet hatefully, Sakuya couldn't deny a certain grim satisfaction to see Sigurd wearing that mark. It was beginning to dawn on her, that it was likely the least of the punishment he deserved.

"I assure you Sakuya-chan that it really is quite painful." He turned so that she could only see the unmarked side of his face. "A shame that I can't share it with you. But don't worry . . ." His voice fell to a soft growl, the look in his good eye, brilliant, shinning green, like a cruel child who had just found a new animal to torment " ...We'll make do."

"Is that what this is Sigurd?" Sakuya whispered. "Revenge?"

He looked surprised, almost insulted. "Oh, much, much, more than that." Sigurd assured. "You're thinking too small Sakuya-chan." The Sylph took an almost conversational air as he seated himself facing her, resting Takemikazuchi at his side. "Though I admit, I did want your pretty little head so very much. Part of my payment for the help."

"Help?" Slowly, Sakuya's mind was beginning to put together the pieces. Snatches of conversation, blurry half images caught as she was carried. Muffled voices as she lay here in a daze. She shivered, and not just from the cold. She'd known she was in danger as soon as she had woken. From the moment the word 'payment' left his lips, Sakuya had begun to suspect just how far Sigurd had fallen, and now he confirmed her worst fears.

"As an adviser to some powerful individuals, you don't think I arranged this by myself, do you?" He spread his arms to the room around them, as if gesturing to the space beyond. "I am not, at the moment, a man of such great means, Sakuya-chan. Plucking you from the Royal Palace would have been a bit beyond me without their aid. I'm sure you can imagine who."

The admission echoed inside of her head. Impossible. She would have scoffed at it at any other time, simply refused to believe it. Even knowing what people were capable of, even having seen the evidence for herself. Reconquista, the very people who planned to expunge every last trace of the Fae of ALfheim from Halkegenia. Beyond the simple madness of betraying his own kind. Did Sigurd really believe that Reconquista would deal with him in good faith? And did he even care?

She tried to ask it out loud. "How...How…"

"How did we do it?" Sigurd asked rhetorically. "Easily enough. The sorry state of this country helped. The Crown isn't nearly as secure as it thinks itself. With the right equipment, and some knowledge of the Palace, abducting a few trusted individuals on the night of a major occasion was almost child's play." An amused smirk as if recalling something. "The Royal Guards might be loyal to the last, but it happens to be that the rest of this country is filled to the brim with corruption and nobility that dream of usurping power for themselves. Really, I couldn't ask for better conditions to operate in."

Sigurd hefted Takemikazuchi in both hands, partly unsheathing the sword to examine the first dozen centimeters of its silvered blade. Even in this dark place, the Sword's edge brilliantly reflected the lantern light.

"Of course, there were your own guards to deal with. But that was easy enough to arrange." Another dark chuckle. "You really are a terrible judge of character, Sakuya-chan."

And just what did that mean? She shook her head. "No, how could you betray us. We're your own people, Sigurd."

"You threw me out, Sakuya." A murderous glint filled his good eye. "You threw me to the wolves. And admit it, you'd never have let me back."

Not in his former position. Sakuya knew, but the Transition had changed everything. It wasn't about their petty rivalries and imaginary wars anymore. It certainly wasn't about indulging in their old behavior, something that even the worst trolls and gankers had come to understand aside from Rip Jack. If Sigurd had appeared before her, she would have given him alms like all of the others. But, seeing his wretched state, she could see that it was too late to say that now. Perhaps it had always been too late.

"Not just the Sylphs, all of us. We're all that any of us has." The only friends, the closest thing to family that any of them could reach out and touch. Alicia, and Novair, Kirito and Leafa. The people she relied on and who relied on her.

Another sharp cuff to the cheek, softer than the last, but totally unexpected this time. "Is that some plea for sympathy?" Sigurd wondered. "Get off your high horse Sakuya, deep down we both know you only talk about unity because it suits you." He parroted, scarred voice reciting some of the things that she had written for the message boards. "Regardless of our differences we're all citizens of Earth? All Japanese? A confederation of United Fae Races? And who's going to be at the top of the alliance when the dust settles, I wonder?"

The humor seeped away until the fallen Sylph was left alone with only his deformity and a dull, rage filled look in his eye. "You and Alicia, that treacherous Salamander, even that Fat Bastard Rute. You've all benefited from where you stood when the Transition happened. I could have _been_ someone!" Voice breaking into a roar of raw volume and inarticulate, indescribable rage. Sakuya was left to take the brunt of it, trying to cringe away as Sigurd pulled her head back around by the hair.

The silence that followed was almost deafening. Panting heavily, Sigurd let his voice drop to almost nothing. "But I will be." He promised, releasing his grip. He was cooling now, regaining his sense of certainty, of dominance.

"You and the other Lords have backed the wrong horse Sakuya-chan. Look at Tristain. A tiny country with a decaying Monarchy that can't even keep a few corrupt Nobles in line. Your 'miracles' at Dunkirk and York may have bought some time, but now you've awoken sleeping giants. They know what you're capable of now. Do you really think Tristain will be able to put up much of a fight now that Reconquista has its sights on them? On all of you? And if you win, do you think Germania won't just swallow you whole?"

Sakuya had thought of all of those things, late at night as she starred up at her ceiling, trying to close her eyes and sleep, not oblivious at all to the dangers that were and the greater dangers that were waiting. She'd thought of all of them and more. But unwaveringly, for good or ill, she'd chosen to hold their ground here, in Tristain i It was a decision that she refused to regard as a mistake. In all of Halkegenia, there was no one else that would have them, who would have offered them what Henrietta and Cardinal Mazarin had given in good faith.

"They'll betray you, Sigurd." Sakuya didn't know why she was even speaking now, maybe to keep Sigurd talking, maybe in hopes that something would happen. "They can't be trusted. They'll use you and then kill you. Or worse, they'll do what they did to the people they killed in Albion." The undead. Friends and loved ones reanimated to serve the cause of Reconquista.

If Sigurd cared, he didn't show it. "Oh I'm well aware of the nature of the snakes I'm dealing with. Precautions have been taken." He assured her. "Besides, I'm convinced that the potency of Reconquista's necromancy has been overstated. Case in point," Sigurd gestured to himself, "The fact that I'm still alive and free to do as I will. The difference is that the head snakes happen to appreciate enlightened self-interest."

"Mortimer-kun did a wonderful job of advertising our capabilities to Tristain's enemies. It's gotten Albion's attention, the way we can challenge their vaunted Dragon Knights and even threaten their fleet. How long do you think it will be before Germania and Gallia are clamoring for Fae of their own and look to the one place where they can get them?"

"One way or another, this country is going to be torn to shreds." Sigurd predicted. "And I don't plan to be torn apart with it. In fact, I plan to profit from it. I'm just ...well," he smirked, half of his face showing handsomely, the other shifting in a ghastly fashion, "helping along the wheel of history."

Sakuya began to tremble, with fear, with rage, as Sigurd went on about his plans, his twisted little schemes. Their scale and evil left the betrayal he had committed in ALO far, far behind in the dust. Had he always been a monster? Had the Transition, this world, just let that part of him come to the surface?

With every word that left his mouth, Sakuya became more certain of his lunacy. And worse, terrified of his prospects of success.

"The Kingdoms of Halkegenia are still going to want their own Faerie Forces. It will just be a matter of picking the best of the pieces and the strongest Kingdom to contract with. Once the Lords are gone and this alliance is shattered, people are going to be looking for strong leaders to save them. "

"Leaders like you?" She wanted to laugh at that, throw it back into his face. Sigurd might have fancied himself to be cut out to be a leader, but she'd have taken Mortimer over him in a heartbeat.

"You mock me now, Sakuya-chan." Sigurd sighed and then smiled. "But I've already been instrumental in what is happening even now." He leaned back in his chair, looking up to the ceiling as he rested both hands on Takemikazuchi 's hilt. "I imagine that by now, the Salamander Lord is dead."

Sakuya went stiff at the revelation. Mortimer. Had they killed him?! Or was this a trick to break her? She felt her chest go cold at that thought, the damage that a lone madman may have just so casually inflicted on all of the Fae and their allies. For all his faults, Mortimer had proven himself a military savant. The way he had interfaced almost seamlessly with the armies of Tristain, conveyed his plans and ideas. Where he was a terrible statesman, he could have been a great General, and a part of Sakuya refused to believe it.

Mortimer was too good at what he did. Too cautious. Too paranoid to die easily. And most of all, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of being put out of her misery. But if it were true, if it were true . . .

"Don't think even his tactical genius will save him." Sigurd assured her. "He's met his end thanks to an ambush we arranged, courtesy of Reconquista's special forces and our good friend Rip Jack."

Sakuya's eyes widened. The Spriggan Assassin! He'd been under watch, with the rest of the conspirators laying low outside the city. Had he escaped? And if so, was there truth to what Sigurd was saying?

"So that murderer works for you?" She hissed. It couldn't be more fitting that a murderer would serve a monster.

Sigurd shrugged his shoulders softly. "'Works' might be too limited a word. Jack-kun doesn't have the best grip on reality. I'm afraid he spends most of his time in his own little world. Convenient though," he mused, "I just need to point him at what I need destroyed and he goes at it like a dog to a bone. And I do have to say I rather like the title he gave me. The 'Norseman' has a noble ring to it, wouldn't you say?"

"How does it feel, Sakuya-chan?" Sigurd asked almost giddily, rising over her, gloating. "That I've arranged in a few weeks in this real world what you couldn't manage in a year in ALO?"

She met his gaze, lips pressed tightly together, expression set and determined in open defiance. They both knew what this was. He wanted her to give in. He wanted her broken. And Sakuya sensed that he wouldn't allow her to die until he accomplished that. She smiled spitefully.

"I'll believe it when I see it." She said with all the confidence she could muster. "Until then, you're all bluff, Sigurd."

She was expecting another strike. But instead, Sigurd merely chuckled under his breath. "Maybe I'll show you his head later Sakuya-chan. And then you'll see ..." His left hand, cold, rough, testament that the curse that had ravaged his face had done the same to the rest of his body. He lightly parted a few stray hairs and stroked her cheek. Sakuya felt her skin crawl at his touch, at his leering eye. Hand moving slowly down, along the line of her jaw, her neck and shoulder " ...that you made a mistake the day you stole the Sylphs from me Sakuya-chan."

"If I'd been Lord like I was meant to be. I wouldn't have to skulk in the shadows like this. It wouldn't have to waste time. I'd already rule our new species." With his free hand, Sigurd removed something from a pouch on his belt. It was all dark wood and glinting metal that unfolded with an oiled precision.

A knife, but no weapon, Sakuya could tell. If it was from ALfheim, it would have been a high class crafting item, something that Sigurd had probably bought to show off his status rather than because he had the skill to use it properly. "But you tricked them Sakuya-chan. You don't have the skills, you don't have the power to lead. The Salamanders gained dominance over us because of you. Forced me to abandon the Sylphs as a lost cause, waste all of my work. And because of that, I'm the one branded traitor! But they all still look at you, and admire you, and lust after you. Even though you've lined them all for the slaughter! That's the only way you could have beaten me." His breathing deepened as he twirled the knife with deceptive grace. "You're just a whore Sakuya! That's all you've ever been, all you'll ever be."

The knife flashed, grazing her cheek like a razor. A cut beneath her right eye, far more painful than its size would suggest, began to well blood to Sigurd's clear satisfaction.

"So", another flash of the knife, slicing another cut across the first. "I'll start by making you as ugly as me. So that nobody will want you. And then ...only then . . ." He sounded almost delirious as his hands worked, pulling the collar of her yukata down to expose the skin her of her shoulder to the knife, progressing lower before realizing that she wasn't going to give him what he wanted.

Sakuya tried hard not to show her fear, to keep her breathing level. She wouldn't have believed she'd had this sort of resolve before, not until it was tested. The knife shook in Sigurd's hand as he held it close, tracing options like a sculptor. "What should I take first Sakuya? An ear? An eye? What do you think?"

She held her stare, not saying a thing, just glaring at him until he began to tremble. He took her by the hair once more, a shriek of rage as he beat her head against the wall until she was left in a daze, skull pounding from the repeated strikes. "FEAR ME YOU BITCH!"

And then a sudden release of pressure as there came a creaking of hinges and a rattling of the iron door behind him. "Careful now, Norseman." A note of disapproval. "You're letting your composure slip."

That voice. Echoing in the silence. Where Sigurd had failed, it almost broke her. Vision swimming as she looked past the fallen Sylph into the darkened hall, at the man, the Sylph, who stood there. His armor was of the same high quality as Sigurd's, sleeker, denuded of vanity for the sake of function. His features were much the same, handsome enough, but in the way that most Fae were attractive rather than any excess of beauty. It was a face she'd grown familiar with, but now realized had never really known. And seeing it here and now told her everything was lost. If even her own guards had betrayed her.

"Ephi?" She squeezed her eyes shut, drawing in a pained breath. It wasn't possible. But at the same time, it made so much sense that it hurt. The Sylph Mob Patrol leader had been so eager to take up the chance to assume command of her guards. Now, it seemed, too eager. Novair and Liliana, Alicia's subordinate Tobi. "This was all so you could get to me?" They'd killed so many, just so that they could do this?!

Turning to face her, noting her for the first time like a cut of meat. Ephi's gruff and dutiful attentiveness had been shed replaced by an amused smile. "Don't flatter yourself, Sakuya-sama. We didn't do this just for you." He crossed her arms as he leaned against the wall beside the door. "And the name is Ephilates."

She couldn't have cared less what he wanted to be called. The fact that a traitor had been sitting that close to their hearts. So casually. Maybe Mortimer had been right to hold everyone and everything in suspicion. Had she made a mistake in reining him in? Had she killed them all?

Sigurd noted her despair and realized that he had found a chink in her armor, a way to hurt her. "We needed someone on the inside. Someone who could learn Mortimer's travel plans, his guard layout, and of course, retrieve a sample of his blood."

'Blood?'

"You're going to spoil the best part, Sigurd-sama." Ephi warned, head nodding down as he gave Sakuya a sidewise glance.

"It's hardly spoiled when it should be done already." Sigurd grunted, rising from Sakuya's bedside. "Then if you are here, we have the Princess?"

The Princess? The Princess! Sakuya's eyes widened, an act that her captors mistook for surprise. And it was, of a sort, but it also meant hope. Not even Ephi had been privy to this, it had been kept secret, known only to the people involved directly. The glimmering chance that they didn't know the poison they had just swallowed.

They had known that they couldn't plan for everything, that there were eventualities that couldn't be accounted for, scenarios that couldn't be predicted. Despite their best efforts, there had been no guarantee that the conspirators would not succeed with their plans, in whole or in part. And so it had been decided to lay a trap of their own.

Dangerous, both politically to the Fae and the Crown if it was discovered too soon, and to the brave volunteer who would take Henrietta's place for the duration of the Gala, acting in her place until it was time for the official announcement, when the real Henrietta would be best protected.

It had to be a Faerie of course. Their hardiness and powers of flight gave them the best chance of survival and escape. The choice had been between the Spriggan Darkness Mistress Shirishi and Sakuya herself. Both could maintain the demeanor and bearing, and both had the experience in etiquette to make the masquerade work where all others would fail.

Sakuya knew Henrietta and her mannerisms better than the Spriggan mage, but she would be expected at the Gala and was deemed too important, too valuable, to endanger herself needlessly if things went wrong. But if things went wrong in just the right way, if the double was captured and carried off, or even Henrietta herself, the conspirators might not realize until they'd brought her into their den, searching tracer and a team of Royal Guards hot on their trail.

The high conspirators, it had been reasoned, would want to claim credit, to deliver the Princess themselves in order to garner favor. If that happened, the conspiracy might well hang itself for them.

She clung to that glimmer, desperately drawing strength from it until Ephi spoke once more.

"And no one suspects you?" Sigurd asked.

A confident nod, one hand rubbing at a red patch of skin peaking up past his collar. "Once I handed Sakuya-sama off, I made certain to use a dart on myself as well. They assumed the attacker got the drop on me like the others and think that I'm searching for Sakuya-sama right now. But I did run into trouble on the way back. In the catacombs."

"Oh?" Sigurd growled softly.

"A Searching Tracer. Spriggan class. They must have wanted to keep their Princess safe." Ephi explained to Sigurd's hiss of indrawn breath. "Don't worry, I neutralized it before it got too far. I left the stealth cloaks with the remaining spec ops, they'll wait in ambush for a while in case anyone comes through. " He shook his head. "In that dark, they'd need a master Hunter or Assassin with them, or they'll be ganked before they know it."

Sakuya felt her last hope shattering, spirits plummeting. Their own plan turned in on itself by the last minute contributions of a traitor in their midst. One who hadn't even known the details. She could only pray, as long as Shirishi's identity was unknown, that she would have the chance to escape.

"The one in charge wants to see us." Ephi explained. "Wants to know if there's any other spells that could have been used to follow her."

"She was kept blinded, wasn't she?" Sigurd looked lost in his own thoughts. "Peeping wouldn't work if she couldn't see. And Scrying needs an open sky ...We planned to keep her here until things die down anyways."

Ephi shrugged casually. "I couldn't say. All I know is that they want to hear it from you, Sigurd-sama."

A look of agitation and disgust crossed the fallen Sylphs face. The knife spun in his hand one last time and then was folded and pocketed without a word. He cast one last look to Sakuya before reaching for his helmet, dawning the helm and his gloves once more to mask his disfigurement. "We'll have plenty of time to finish this later Sakuya-chan. Come along, 'Spartan'; we need to present ourselves to our clients. And make sure to have someone posted here to keep watch over our _guest_."

There was nothing more said as Sigurd turned to the door, storming out in a billowing of his cloak. Ephi followed after him, but then stopped, turning back to her like he'd expected the question she asked.

"Why?" Sakuya mumbled dully. "Just why, Ephi? Sigurd has his vengeance, but what about you?" What could he possibly gain from this?

"Isn't that obvious Sakuya-sama." Blinking, Ephi tilted his head curiously. "I hate all of you people who want to take our new world from us." So simple and brutal. She'd thought she'd be ready for him to say anything. But not that. Turning back towards her, stepping back into the room.

Ephi clenched his fists, looking down on himself. "Since waking here, in this body, all I hear is how much people are hoping to find a way home. And the ones who don't keep bleating about that are busy trying to bring the old world here. As if we should want that. Why would I want a world that rejected me?" He smiled as he examined his own hand, admiring. "Every one of those cowards forgets that we're faster, stronger, better, than we ever were in that other world."

He turned tilted his head curiously. "You can't tell me you don't love this. How light you feel when you move, the strength, the speed. The way every fiber sings when we're in the sky!"

A painful truth that she wanted to deny. The long absent throbbing of her ruined hip.

And then a small smirk as he nodded to her partly exposed chest. "And I can't imagine you aren't a little pleased with other things too." A fact of VRMMOs that even randomly generated characters tended to lean towards the flattering. Ephi, tall and lean, who was modestly handsome by Sylph standards, would have been striking in Japan. "Why would anyone ever want to go back?"

"Family." Sakuya whispered, struggling to recall what seemed like a lifetime ago, someone else's lifetime. Maybe it was. Maybe Yamada Sakura had died on the day of the Transition, and Sakuya the Sylph was merely the recipient of her memories. Was that it? Would it matter? No. Moments wreathed in warmth, even when they were sad. "Loved ones, people who depend on us." Sakuya whispered. "Have you forgotten that…?"

The hate that raged in his eyes froze her tongue. Unlike Sigurd who wanted her to linger, Ephi looked ready to kill her at that very moment. "Those people." He sneered in disgust. "You mean the ones that gave up on me, mocked me? The ones who look down on a fa NEET? You think I wouldn't dive into this world to escape that!"

His expression turned vicious as he towered over her. It dawned on Sakuya that somehow, despite being bound and helpless, she had managed to threaten him.

"That's just it Sakuya-chan. The meaning behind the Transition." A laugh full of exuberance, and something dark. "Don't you get it? It changed the rules. The way things are now. I've never felt more alive than this. Thriving in this world. We who can take hold of this world for ourselves are the chosen. The rest who can't adapt are like what I used to be. They would have ignored me, discarded me. So why should I show them a hint of mercy?"

He looked down on her, eyes roaming in a way that Sigurd's had not. Not just content to humiliate her, they almost seemed to reminisce, to desire, held back by ...by something ...lingering fear and uncertainty of a former self. He shook it off as he reached over her, leaned down onto her until she felt like she was going to wretch.

"It's such a shame you had to stand in our way Sakuya-sama." He whispered down into her ear as his hand moved between them. Shock, rage, as she felt him. "I think you could have been one of the chosen ones. I really have admired you for the longest time. But don't worry, I'm sure I can convince Sigurd to give me a chance to…_taste _you, _all of you, _before he finishes _ruining_ you."

That might have been it, might have been what pushed her past the point of no return. Broke her. If not for what came next. "Of course, there's also that blonde I see around you all the time. Sigurd-sama is planning to kill a few of her friends in the chaos that's coming. Maybe if she survives I can have a shot at her."

At Leafa, and the others who would be vulnerable if this lunatic plan came to fruition. To mad animals that wanted to treat everyone else as their toys. It woke Sakuya, pulled her back from the yawning abyss. It had been aimed to hurt her. To kick her when she was down. But it had done something else entirely.

"Now I must be going, Sakuya-sama. Until later."

He stopped as he was about to tie a gag over her mouth, a measure to prevent her from chanting, or chanting competently in any case, as she laughed softly.

"Thank you Ephi-kun." Sakuya said. "I was almost ready to give up. But you just gave me a reason to go on."

"Oh?" Ephi looked surprised.

"Oh yes." Sakuya promised, binds straining as her hands balled into fists so tight that she drew blood. Her eyes burned with tears, all of the rage that she'd held balled up inside of her for the past months finally birthed into this world. "As thanks, I'm going to make you a promise Ephi. I swear to you that I will not die until I've killed you."

Ephi blinked rapidly and then with a small barking laugh, drew the gag tight until it cut at her lips. Standing, he leaned Takemikazuchi against the far wall, beyond all hope of reach. "That is something I would really love to see, Sakuya-sama." And then he was gone, the only evidence of his passage the echo of the iron door as it was shut.


	36. Elementary

Halkegenia Online - Chapter 11 - Part 2

"I'm sorry, Lord Mortimer." Standing on the far side of the Moonlight Mirror, the Spriggan Hunter bowed her head shamefully. "I thought we had them in the catacombs, but then I lost contact with my lead Tracer, and the backup went dark a little while after that." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I've done everything I can."

The gathered Royals, Nobles, and Fae looked to one another, some showing dismay, others, quiet looks of resignation.

This plan had always been a risk, a last resort that never should have been required. For Henrietta's inner circle to have been so infiltrated that her body double could have been kidnapped, changed everything. Just how far did the conspiracy go, and out of the hundreds gathered at the palace, just how many were in bed with the enemy? Now they could only hope that they could somehow rescue the Faerie masquerading as Henrietta in time. Their last hope to trace the conspirators to their base had likely just been lost for good.

How much an hour's time changed things, Henrietta thought at she looked around the room. Just a short while ago, she had been hidden away atop the palace, watching the Gala alongside a contingent of her bodyguards as her double moved about and socialized in her place. It had all seemed like quite tremendous fun to play a part in this masquerade. A shame that it could never be known to any outside a small minority of the Royal Guards, her mother, Cardinal Mazarin, and the Faerie Lords.

What was more, watching Mister Kirito navigate the party with such sublime grace had been a delight in itself, payment for the hours that she and Asuna had spent teaching him the basics of etiquette so that he might imitate, for a brief time, the proper mannerisms of a highborn daughter.

Henrietta had been meant to switch places with her doppelganger prior to her formal announcement that she intended to take the throne and be crowned as Queen so that the initiation proceedings could be fully officiated by the Lord Justice and Cardinal Mazarin, she would then have switched places again to minimize her exposure to the kidnapping plot.

But she didn't think many of the Nobility would appreciate being fooled for an evening, even for a good cause. As Cardinal Mazarin would say, it would needlessly expend a good deal of the precious Political Capital that she would need in the coming days, if the ploy ever came to light.

Now, it all seemed a trifling concern compared to this latest catastrophe wrought at the hands of the Reconquista. Lord Mortimer nearly killed and framed, the city set ablaze, and Henrietta herself nearly kidnapped if not for the last minute precautions that had been taken to ensure her safety. And there was every indication, as the story was allowed to unfold piece by piece, that things were only going to get worse. For in no small part, tonight's attempt on the lives of herself and Prince Wales had been made possible by a traitor from a direction that they had never even thought to look.

She wouldn't have believed it if the news hadn't been delivered by Lord Mortimer himself, the real Lord Mortimer, so recently arrived beaten, bloodied, and sopping wet from his brush with death and his subsequent flight through the torrential downpour that had taken the entire countryside by surprise this mid-spring evening. The Guards hadn't at first known what to make of the his ghastly appearance, had even considered leveling their weapons on him despite being in the august company of Lady Morgiana and a young Gallian Chevalier, a friend of Louise's who had already been closely associated with the investigation even before the full scope of de'Martou's conspiracy had been revealed.

There were indeed treacherous Fae involved in the conspiracy tonight. They simply were not the ones that the people of Tristain were meant to believe.

Lord Mortimer was certain that at least one, but more likely two traitors were among they Fae, though as for their identities, he could offer only his suspicions for now. It was the likely identity of one of these traitors that could mean ruin. A conclusion that he had drawn from circumstantial evidence and the accounts of a trio of Fae investigators.

Ephi, the commander of Sakuya's guard contingent had likely betrayed them all, and with this revelation Sakuya's strange absence tonight had taken on a new urgency.

"N-nyoh!" It was a sudden and sharp outburst, so unlike the normally fanciful Lady of Freelia. "There has to be something more you can do!" Lady Alicia hissed.

"Alicia." Lady Morgiana said, looking unusually morose.

"Something you haven't thought of!"

On the other side of the mirror, the Spriggan woman looked away, lips pressing into a thin line.

"Alicia!" Morgiana's brow twitched.

Alicia's ears had folded back, features stretching gaunt. "You just aren't trying hard enough!"

"Shut. Up. Rue."

The sound of Morgiana's hand striking the surface of the table brought everything else in the room to a stop. The Lady of the Spriggans had not, Henrietta thought, been in the best of tempers when she'd arrived, and hearing the dejected report of her subordinate had not helped matters at all. Those nearest to her cringed away as she loomed over Alicia. The only ones who were the slightest bit un-stymied were Lord Mortimer and General Eugene.

While his elder brother continued to study the map of the Capital spread across the parlor table, showing its streets and districts, the Salamander General had been the first to act, stepping forward to hesitantly place a hand on the Spriggan woman's shoulder, squeezing softly. For whatever reason, this seemed to help, if only a little. The tension and anger draining from her, Morgiana's temper cooled until she could look Alicia in the eye without glaring and speak without shouting.

"Marina and the others are doing all they can right now." Morgiana said, meeting the angered gaze of the Cait Lord. "Chances are that the slimeballs who are helping out these Reconquista bastards have also been giving them some tips on countering our magic."

Alicia opened her mouth as if to speak. The words seemed about to come, but then died on her lips. A moment of shaking before she began to fidget with the bow of her golden gown. "But Sakuya-chan is…"

"Sakuya is out there too." Morgiana sighed softly. "If we're really lucky, finding where they've taken Shirishi will lead us to her. But that means that two of our friends are in danger. Believe me, none of us is more motivated than Marina to find them." Gray eyes like a coming storm looked down at the smaller Lord. "Unless you think there's a single Kurotaka here tonight who doesn't have a personal stake."

"No." Marina shook her head.

Behind the Spriggan woman, Henrietta could see activity atop a roof, the other Faeries and Knights that had formed the pursuit team. After losing the trail underground, the commanding officer had returned them to the surface where they could contact the Palace for further instructions. If only they had better news to report…

"Marina?" Morgiana looked almost surprised.

"No, Big Sis, I'll speak for myself." Marina took a breath. "I'm sure there was more that we could have done. But I let myself get overconfident, we hung too far back. I didn't want to risk being spotted. And now Shirishi and Sakuya-sama may have to pay for my mistake. I…."

"In hindsight the most difficult decisions can appear the most clear."

Simple words spoken by a distracted Lord Mortimer as he traced fingers over the city map, hardly paying any mind to the Undine and water mage that were fussing over his wounds. In all honesty, he shouldn't have even been standing, even with his Fae vitality and the sole attention of two healers. A shoulder wound, and the blood he had already lost, the risk of shock. Henrietta could imagine the toll it would be taking. But Mortimer had simply waved aside all urgings to rest.

"You're thinking of something, aren't you brother?" General Eugene rumbled.

Asuna and Wales had been using this room from the beginning to plan and organize the firefighting efforts in the lower city wards. The map, now strewn with tokens and quite resembling one used for war, was displaying the location and status of the fires and the arrangement of the forces dedicated to their containment.

The conspirators had done their work well. Fires, initially small as to prevent early notice, had been scattered throughout the commoner wards, thereby making it almost impossible to stop the flames before they had already become a fierce blaze too large for a few petty mages and commoners to contain. The fireworks had only spread the calamity further.

Predicting the devastation that would be wrought, after some semblance of order had been restored among the panicked party goers, the Faeries had volunteered themselves for service. Lord Thinker had directed his own guards and the Undines stationed at Champ de Mars to do everything in their power to bring the fires under control.

The Undine Fae had already proven themselves invaluable in containing the flames, drowning out rooftops and laying ice barriers to barricade buildings beyond saving, keeping the fires from spreading and aggregating. Now, with the rain on their side, they were finally making progress at containing the damage before it could reach neighboring districts.

"No, this isn't your fault Marina-san. If it can be blamed on anyone…" Mortimer licked his lips. "I just…I just need time." He said, still distracted. H "The answer, It's here, somewhere, I can almost see it." The Salamander Lord's normally smooth brow was knit in concentration. It hardly seemed an exaggeration that, for now, the world around him was little more than a distraction.

"Sir Marlow brought his familiar with us." Marina reported. "A Germanian Bearhund, but even it can't follow a scent down there. It's the waterways… scents get carried everywhere."

"That was likely among the conspirators' intentions, in choosing this avenue of escape." Captain Hammond deduced. "The underground is a maze. Leagues of tunnels, and catacombs dating back to the city's earliest days. You could lose your way down there even with years of experience."

"Experience that could be provided by a certain corrupt Tax Collector with certain smuggling connections." Wales noted.

This night had done the Prince no favors, and though he had escaped injury, events were clearly taking a heavy toll on his stamina. Wales had sworn himself to her, to keep her and Tristain safe, and she could not escape the feeling that he somehow thought this to be his fault in some part. More than anything, Henrietta wanted to reach out to him, to reassure him in the way that Asuna could do so openly with Kirito. The two Fae, stood close together even now, exchanging small hand squeezes when they thought nobody was looking.

Though Kirito had as yet neglected to dispel his illusory form as Midori. Not that Henrietta could blame him while garbed in the tattered remains of a gown carefully tailored to his current proportions. At least someone had gotten around to giving him something warm to cover up with, an officer's jacket provided eagerly by one of the young mage officers outside.

"It is a problem indeed." Lord Zolf agreed softly. "What about the peeping spell we set on Shirishi-san?"

"It didn't do any good with her head covered." Marina said. "And the connection broke a little bit after I lost my tracers. We must have gone out of range."

Zolf nodded slowly. "And Scrying is like moonlight mirror, it can only transmit under the light of a shared celestial body. She's either being kept underground or . . ."

"Don't say it." Morgiana whispered, voice carrying the promise of violence. "Don't even say it."

Or she might be dead, Henrietta understood the unspoken implication. In which case, the Faerie spell would be of no use. No magic known to human, Fae, or Elf could delve beyond the divide. And if that were the case, it did not bode well for Sakuya either.

"I meant…I meant no disrespect, Morgiana-san." Zolf whispered as he withdrew a small, almost Brimiric cross from his pocket, gently squeezing the ornament as he whispered under his breath.

"Zolf, what about your body guards." Mortimer suddenly asked.

"You mean the Hogei-sen?" Zolf asked as if surprised to hear the question.

'Hogei-sen?' Another strange name, one of the institutions the Fae referred to as Guilds, loose associations of Faeries with complimentary talents and skills such as the Kurotaka. Henrietta recalled the name from the reports and, if she did not misremember, the Hogei-sen were…were…

'Oh my.' Henrietta's eyes widened.

They were not highly regarded, even among the Fae, though not for lack of skill or even for their conduct, which was said to be among the most courteous to be found among the ranks of their kind. Rather, the Hogei-sen bore the unfortunate distinction of being marked with the blackest of brushes, especially now. An Assassin's Guild. A _reformed_ Assassin's Guild, they were always swift to assure, but Assassins nonetheless.

Following the Transition, they had taken it upon themselves to purge their ranks of the weak, those lacking the fortitude for _real _combat, and had gathered only the strongest and most tested of Imp stealth fighters.

Masters of the Fae Darkness magic. Cloaked in deep violets and blues and issued with ingenious Leprechaun crafted equipment, hiding themselves behind glass eyed masks in battle, like something that would be worn by a plague doctor. They were foreboding sights wherever they might be found, most often in the caverns of their capital, or the in shadow of their Lord.

That the kindly Lord Zolf could ever employ, let alone require such people seemed impossible. But like all the Fae, the identities they had crafted in the illusion world were just masks worn while indulging in fantasy that spoke nothing of the true quality of their character. And at the same time, who better to guard their gentle spirited Lord then men familiar with the knife, the poison, and the crossbow, the tools of the Assassin?

"I contacted them at once." Zolf said. "They've already scattered themselves along the river way and are keeping guard in both directions. I've received no reports back of any suspicious activity near the water ways."

Mortimer nodded slowly. "The night vision of the Imps is superb. If anyone would have seen a thing, it's your men. Then…we can assume they haven't attempted to use the water ways to take them from the city … yet. That means … maybe." He blinked furiously as if deep in thought.

Alicia, seeming to scent the strange behavior, perked up, ears standing tall. "Hey, Mort, what are you saying? You're thinking of something aren't you!" She suddenly sounded alive again, stretching up on her tip toes, palms planted firmly on the table. "Come on Mort. Spill it!"

"Captain Hammond, there are official offices of the City housed in the House of Peers, are there not?"

The Manticore Knight stroked his chin, he appeared as unsure as Henrietta, as everyone else really, of where Lord Mortimer was headed with this. But the Salamander had already proven a well of ideas in the past. If Mortimer thought it would be of use then it was best to assume it would be of use.

"Yes, the Tax Offices and the Archives. Why, is there something you might need from them?"

"Maps." Mortimer said simply. "Maps, plans, anything that shows the major underground construction. Waterways, catacombs. Gross plans and details, anything at all."

Captain Hammond's brows rose. "That would be…decades…centuries of old documents. What could possibly do with…"

"Please." Such an alien word to hear from the taciturn Salamander, and with it, the faintest hint of desperation. "I just need them now. Anything, everything you can find, bring it here as quickly as you can."

"Lord Mortimer has our full support." Henrietta instructed the uncertain Captain. "Please instruct the musketeers to handle it at once."

Cold red eyes looked over to her from across the table, perhaps exhaustion had finally ebbed its way into him, but for a moment his eyes seemed to soften, a ghostly hint of thanks that was gone before she could tell if it had been there at all.

The order was given to a squad of Musketeers, instructed to let nothing get in their way. Even if they had to break in and kidnap the clerical staff they were to retrieve anything they could find and return immediately.

"Marina?" Mortimer asked carelessly, he was utterly lost in the map on the table. "Do you think you can tell me where you were when you lost contact with your tracers?"

The Spriggan blinked exactly once, and then realizing that Mortimer was beginning to scheme, was swift to answer "We made it about a kilometer on foot underground before I lost my tracers. Once that happened, we decided to surface. Luckily the catacombs intersect with the underground waterways that feed from the Noble districts, so we were able to take a service ladder back up to the surface just off of….

"Charon Street." A Knight behind Marina told her. "Near the statue of Saint Athos, if that will help."

Mortimer looked to Captain Hammond who was all too happy to point the place out on the city map.

"What good will this do?" The Captain was confused.

"You'll see…you'll see. Maybe nothing but…no, this must work or else…." Red eyes scanned the map one last time, lips moving fast and furious as he breathed out the names written in Halkegenian script.

More questions were asked as they waited for the Musketeers to return, not more than half an hour passed before they were back, short of breath and carrying rolls of paper beneath their soaked coats. Everything that Lord Mortimer had asked for. Maps, diagrams, church records of the locations of family tombs and catacombs. Centuries of Tristania's history recorded on yellowing paper.

And then, to their shock, Mortimer asked them to lay them across the floor. At first, none of the men knew what to do, even the Captain appeared to be no help.

"Don't just stand there." Lady Morgiana took one scroll from the hands of a befuddled Musketeer. "Boss says to spread them out, you spread them out!"

That had been enough to shake the men to action. Furniture was moved, Nobles and Fae stepped aside or stepped forward to help, making a clear space on which the plans could be laid out until they formed a quilt across the floor. Only then did Lord Mortimer step forward, comparing what he saw to the city map still resting on the table.

"That one." He pointed. "Put it over there."

Still unsure of exactly what the Salamander Lord intended, the men were nonetheless swift to obey as he pointed and instructed, rearranging the papers in some arcane fashion, requesting that some be overlaid or interleaved with others, demanding that still others be removed. He did this again and again, conferring repeatedly with Captain Hammond and the other officers about the specifics of the maps. Their titles, locations, scales, making marks in pen atop the city map as he grew satisfied with each portion of his tapestry.

At last, Mortimer stopped and simply stared. He did not blink, he did not even appear to be breathing, only the faintest flaring of his nostrils betrayed that he was still alive, the subtle movements of his eyes, and the slowly spreading flush across his forehead and cheeks, as if in the throes of a fever.

"What is he doing?" A young Mage Officer Cadet, Guiche de'Gramont, whispered quietly to the effeminately disguised Kirito.

"I think…" The swordsman paused, delicately biting his lip. His eyes widened. "I don't think someone can do that."

"But he is." Miss Argo whispered.

"Is…Is wha…mmph?" Guiche was silenced as a slender hand clamped down over his mouth, Lady Alicia leaning beside him, a glint of hope shimmering in her eyes.

He must have stood that way for a full ten minutes. Finally. Mortimer moved, stepping out across the maps, to the crinkling and tearing of paper. Henrietta cringed at the damage that was being done and the way that Lord Mortimer simply didn't seem to care. And then he stopped blinking as if rising from a daze, or a deep trance.

"Brother?" Eugene reached out, placing a hand on the Salamander Lord's shoulder.

Mortimer seemed almost surprised, as if he'd forgotten his brother was there, that any of them were there. He turned, storming back to the table, taking a pen and then drawing a wide circle over the Warders Quarter of the city. "There." He muttered. "If they haven't been taken out of the city. They'll be in there."

"What?" Captain Hammond looked to the map, and then back the papers on the floor. Most of his officers did the same, unable to comprehend what had just happened, what dread magic Mortimer had just wrought. Or if it had been magic at all.

"It's in the direction that Marina and the others were traveling." Mortimer explained. "It is along a major waterway, away from the primary outlets. This area is the only place to which they could have escaped after taking the waterways without emerging onto the surface."

"That's only if these maps show everything." Wales observed. "I can assure you, Lord Mortimer, that they do not."

The Salamander Lord buried the tip of his pen into the center of the circle he had drawn. "It doesn't matter." He stood, breathing heavily. "This is all we have. And if we cannot scry them, they must be underground. Captain Hammond. Can you think of any locations in this area that would be ideal? Someplace abandoned but secure, that would have access to the underground waterways, somewhere that Shirishi and Sakuya would never have a chance to see the sky?"

The Captain frowned heavily as he leaned over the table, looking for some clue, or some reminder. "The Warder's Quarter? No, there's nothing there, old barracks, some church offices and poor houses." Then his eyes widened. "Wait." He looked the map over, confidence growing. "Here. This here." He planted a finger firmly on an unlabeled patch of the map.

"What is it, Captain?" Henrietta asked, coming to stand beside the two men and examine the map for herself.

"La Forace Prison." Captain Hammond said grimly.

There was an uncomfortable shifting among some of the Manticore and Griffin Knights standing in the room. The older ones whose years of service went back to Henrietta's childhood.

"La Forace? I've never heard of a prison of that name…" Henrietta said. It seemed an impossible oversight having lived in the capital for her entire life.

"And I would have wished you never would, your Highness." Hammond stated grimly. "It was abandoned long before you were born, at the order of your father the King." A small shake of the head. "Its impregnability was matched only by its cruelty."

"Wanna bet we can't crack it open?" Lady Alicia asked viciously.

"Why is it not on the map?" Mortimer asked.

"Once, it was." Hammond said as if recalling some ugly affair from long ago. "Or rather, the structure above it. Over a century ago, the First Lord Justice of Tristain commissioned the Prison to be built under his own home so that he could personally see to the ongoing punishment of the vilest of the condemned."

"So the Lord Justice's lovely personality is occupational?" Lady Alicia mused humorlessly.

"Even among the men who later succeeded to his office, Lord Aschcroft was a uniquely callous man." Captain Hammond assured. "The estate was demolished long ago at the order of the previous Lord Justice, after an _incident_. But the prison is still there, beneath the surface." His frown grew darker. "Are you sure, Lord Mortimer? Are you sure that this is the place?"

"Nothing is certain Captain. Least of all _this_." The Salamander's eyes widened, he tottered, steadied swiftly by his brother. "But it's all we have. Please, if you can think of anyplace else, speak now. In the meantime…Lydia."

A pale, silver-haired Salamander woman, Lord Mortimer's guard captain who was by all accounts as unfailingly loyal to her Lord as Ephi was a snake to his, stepped forward, hardly bothered by her bandaged cheek. "My Lord?"

"Gather up my brother's men and tell them to be ready. Heavy armor, knives, and swords, don't bother with the lances, this will be a close quarter's assault. Zolf. I want your men to coordinate with the Royal Guard and lay a cordon in the tunnels. I want nothing to escape."

"If this turns out to be a false lead." The Salamander's eyes were filled with quickly banished doubt. "Then the Warders district is still our best chance. We need to be ready to spread throughout the area and search out any hiding places."

The Imp bowed sincerely. "My guards are at your disposal, Lord Mortimer."

"I'll be heading out too." Alicia announced, even now, the diminutive Cait couldn't hide a fanged and unkind smile. "If you don't mind, I think I'll be right behind whoever kicks down the door."

"That would be me." Morgiana declared smoothly and then a small smirk. "Unless our petite little Midori-chan wants the chance." She gave a wink, much to Mister Kirito's flustered look of agitation.

"I'll have my men readied at once." Captain Hammond announced, shaking his head. "To think that I would ever return to that pit."

"Captain?" Henrietta asked. For a moment, he'd looked distraught by something half-remembered.

"Merely an ugly memory, Your Highness." And that was all that was said.

"Then time is of the essence." Mortimer was heading for the door now, followed closely by General Eugene. "There's no time for an elaborate plan. If the information that our investigators rushed to bring us is accurate, then Sakuya may have precious little time. If _that_ man is involved, then no good can come to her."

The General reached out, grabbing hold of his older sibling's shoulder. "Brother. You've done enough now, please, you need to sit and rest a little while." Henrietta realized, alarmed, that Mortimer fully intended to be part of the strike force he was arranging. "Let us handle this now. You need to rest and…"

The Salamander Lord shrugged his brother's hand from his shoulder. "I can rest as soon as this night ends. Besides, if she dies…" A note of anger, heat that had never been in that neutral voice before, a cold temper strained now to its limit. "If Sakuya-san dies…my actions sowed the distrust that might have prevented us from seizing this information sooner. I can only conclude that if she dies," Mortimer looked up, red eyes hollow, "her blood will be on my hands."


End file.
